With a cry that sounded like the screech of a calliope, Dick bounded forward and caught his chum in his arms.
“Sandy!” he almost blubbered. “Toma!—Everything’s all right! Gee!—I’ve found you—Don’t worry—Gosh! I’ve been nearly crazy, thinking, thinking——”
Tears were welling in Sandy’s eyes.
“Did you drop from the clouds?” he inquired brokenly. “Say, Dick, we’ve been through hell.”
“Don’t worry any more,” Dick comforted him. “We’re all right now. These Indians have come to release you. Just think of it, Sandy—we’re free. Free! Do you hear me, Sandy?”
“Yes, I hear you. But why——”
“The chief’s son—— We owe our lives to him.”
“Why chief’s son do that?” Toma demanded. “Mebbe they make you like fool.”
Dick turned quickly and grasped the guides drooping shoulder in a friendly grip.
“Listen, Toma. Look at that young Indian standing over there,” he pointed as he spoke. “Ever see him before?”