Buffalo Bill had met with many surprises in his life, but never one so great as this. He stared at her without speaking.
“He is a villain,” she quietly went on, “but he means you no harm. I have seen to that.”
“I don’t understand,” said Buffalo Bill, as he shook his head.
“You will after a while. Rely on me. I know what I am about.”
“I don’t believe you do,” muttered the scout under his breath. But what he said was this: “I’ll not hurt Holmes while you are in your present state of mind; but I may pay my respects to Raven Feather and his big brute of a brother.”
“I have no objection,” she replied, and then left him.
Meanwhile, the two Indians and Rixton Holmes were talking together in angry tones. The white stubbornly held his ground, and the Indians finally came to the conclusion that he was not relying on his own unaided efforts to carry his point.
They might have leaped upon him, and either killed or made him a prisoner, but a suspicion that caused them both to look toward the corridor separating the two sections of the cave made them pause.
A lull in the conversation was broken by the descent of the trap. The Navaho who had guarded the prisoners while Crow-killer was away with the two braves jumped from the platform, and made this report to Raven Feather: “When the moon rises, the chief shall welcome the braves of the village.”
Raven Feather gave a slow nod of approval. Then he looked steadily at Holmes. “Does my brother understand?” he asked.