"You haven't got it—yet," remarked Paul, significantly.
A little later they passed along a trail that led to a grove of small trees, where a score or more of Indian ponies were tied. But of the Indians themselves not a sign was to be seen.
"Where are they?" asked Alice.
"You'll soon find out," was Baldy's reply. "They're most likely in their huts. They'll mine out in a minute."
As he spoke they emerged from the clump of trees that served as a stable, and there, in an open space, were nearly a hundred rude huts, made of tree branches roughly twined together. Over some of them were cowhides, tanned with hair on, while others were covered with gaudy blankets.
"There's where they stay while the ceremonies are going on," spoke Baldy. "They're all in the huts now, probably, watching us."
He had hardly finished before there were loud cries, and from the huts poured a motley gathering of Indians. They were attired in very scant costumes—in fact, they were as near like the aborigines as is customary in these modern days. And most of them had, streaked on their faces and bodies, colored earth or fire-ashes. Crude, fierce, and rather terrifying were these painted Indians.
"Oh!" faltered Ruth, as the savages advanced toward them.
"Now don't be a bit skeered, Miss," said Baldy, calmly. "I'll palaver to 'em, and tell 'em we just come to pay 'em a visit."
One Indian, taller and better looking than any of the others, stepped out in advance and came close to the party of players, who had halted their horses.