"Yellow Skull," said Garvey, pointing to Kid Wolf, "meet the man who slew yore son, Bear Claw!"
The expression of the chief's face became ghastly. His eyes widened until they showed rings of white; his nostrils expanded. With a fierce yell, he thumped his scrawny chest until it boomed like an Indian drum. Then he gave a series of guttural orders to his followers.
Kid Wolf, who knew the Apache tongue, listened and understood. His sunburned face paled a bit, but his eyes remained steady. He turned his head to look at Robbins, who was recovering consciousness.
"Keep up yo' nerve, son," he comforted. "I'm afraid this is goin' to be pretty terrible."
The bonds of the two white men were loosened, and they were pulled to their feet and made to walk for some distance. Garvey and Shank, grinning evilly, accompanied them.
Kid Wolf felt the comforting weight of his hidden knife at the back of his neck. It would do him little good, however, to draw it, for he was hemmed in by the Apaches. He might get two or three, but in the end he would be beaten down. He was determined, at any rate, to go out fighting. If he could only bring justice to Garvey before he died, he would be content. Tensely he waited for the opportune time.
One of the redskins carried a comb of honey. The Texan knew what that meant. The most horrible torture that could have been devised by men awaited them.
The torture party paused in a clear space in the middle of a high thicket of mesquite. Here in the sun-baked, packed sand were two ant hills.
Kid Wolf had heard of the method before. What Yellow Skull intended to do was this: The two prisoners would be staked and tied so tightly over the ant hills that neither could move a muscle. Then their mouths would be propped open and honey smeared inside. The swarming colonies of red ants would do the rest.
For the first time, Dave Robbins seemed to realize what was in store for them. He turned his face to the Texan's, his eyes piteous.