“I make ’em pretty good talk,” Toma proudly announced. “I find out where Indian take Baptiste an’ Henderson. Where you think?”
“I can’t imagine,” replied Dick.
“Thunder River.”
“Thunder River!” exclaimed Sandy. “What for?”
“I suppose,” said Dick, “they intend to drown them or else throw them over a cliff.”
“No,” said Toma, shaking his head, “Indian do better thing than that. Big men an’ chief decide about that last night. You remember ’bout little canoes chief gave to Baptiste and Henderson?”
“Yes, I remember you mentioned it.”
“When he give ’em Baptiste, Henderson little canoes he mean by that a certain thing. He mean they take voyage on river. He send ’em down river.”
“How kind of the dear old chief,” said Sandy sarcastically.
“Not so kind you think,” retorted Toma. “Indians take Baptiste, Henderson to bad place in river. Put each one in different canoe, then push canoe away from shore. No paddle! Nothing! God swim along under the water——”