“What do you think they’re about to do, Toma?” he quavered.
“Me not sure yet.”
“But will they kill them?”
The guide shook his head.
“Mebbe tomorrow morning—but not tonight. Tonight I think chief an’ brave fighting men hold big meeting to decide what they do. Pretty sure, Baptiste, Henderson no get killed tonight.”
“Yes, it’s a meeting,” cried Sandy. “See—they’re all sitting down. Look, Dick, the chief is rising to his feet. Toma—run over and find out what they’re going to do.”
When Toma returned, nearly an hour later, the meeting had ended and the two prisoners were being dragged back to their former prison.
“I no find out very much,” he greeted them. “Indians make different talk from my people. I hear only few words I understand. I find out just enough know that they take ’em Baptiste, Henderson long way off tomorrow.”
“What did the chief do when he walked over and stood in front of them?” asked Sandy. “From here it looked as if he had stooped over to cut or untie their ropes.”
“I not understand that part,” replied Toma. “Chief stoop down all right but he no untie. He give Baptiste, Henderson each one little canoe small like my hand. Then he walk away again an’ pretty soon Indians take them bad fellow back to tepee.”