But my eye fell upon the spectators in the background; many of them were directly in the way I should have to take; I saw that many of them carried weapons—either in their hands, or upon their persons—and Hissoo-royo himself was still too near.
I could never fight my way against such odds. I could not break such a line—it would be madness to attempt it. Rube’s counsel was again ringing in my ears; and once more I abandoned the rash design.
Chapter Ninety Six.
The White-Haired Chief.
There was an interval of silence—a dramatic pause—that lasted for more than a minute.
It was ended by one of the council rising to his feet, and by a gesture inviting Hissoo-royo to speak.
The renegade began:
“Red warriors of the Hietan! brothers! what I have to say before the council will not require many words. I claim yonder Mexican girl as my captive, and therefore as my own. Who denies my right? I claim the white horse as mine—my prize fairly taken.”