After the request had been made, the boys waited expectantly.
“Who is this injured brother?” demanded the chief.
“A worthless dog,” replied Toma. “He was a traitor to us. He and his companions fought us, and during the encounter I was compelled to shoot him.”
The Indian’s face darkened.
“Will my brother promise not to shoot any of my people?”
Toma hastened to set his mind at rest. Then he asked:
“When will your young men be ready to start? We are very anxious to proceed on our journey.”
“Tomorrow morning,” answered the leader.
In high spirits, the three chums left the Indian encampment and went back to their own camp. Dr. Brady greeted them anxiously.
“What luck?” he asked.