“No, Massa Warren, you come out here. I’se want to show you somethin’.”
With a hasty glance at the slumbering maiden Warren Rody emerged from the cave.
At the entrance he was suddenly confronted by Nelatu.
“Nelatu!”
A yell of fiendish laughter from Crookleg answered the exclamation.
“He, he, he, he! ho, ho, ho! Oh, dat am de best ting dis ole nigga eber done! Ah, de time am comin’ now! Ho, ho! Massa Warren, who kicked de ole dog of a nigga wot fetch and carry for de white man to de Injun gal? Ha, ha, ha! I ’clare to mercy it am splendid! Now I’ll leave you two friends togedder; but don’t quarrel—don’t! Only remember, Massa Warren, remember Crookleg to your dyin’ day!”
With these words the negro darted off, and was soon lost to sight behind the bushes.
Warren stood grating his teeth in impotent rage.
He saw that he had fallen into a trap laid for him by Crookleg.
Nelatu stirred not an inch.