“Of course,” was the response, given with indifference. “The other members of your band are coming from the village. It is now late afternoon. They will reach here in four or five hours.”
The villain smiled, and then proceeded: “But I won’t be here when they arrive.”
“If my white brother is not here then, it will be because he has kept the promise he gave to Raven Feather,” returned the chief, with decision.
Another smile appeared on the face of the white man. Then he began to scratch his head, the two Indians regarding him questioningly.
“I have it,” he said; “we’ll leave it to the maiden. Send your brave to fetch her here, and we’ll each of us put up his side of the case.”
He spoke in English, but Raven Feather understood him.
The chief shook his head. “The maiden shall be brought here,” he replied, “but she shall not decide the matter. It has been decided. She stays behind to grace the tepee of Raven Feather.”
Holmes made no response, but he grinned when the Navaho brave started for the inner chamber.
In a few minutes Myra Wilton reappeared. She was very pale, and her eyes sought those of her cousin in anxious inquiry.
Holmes beckoned, and she came to his side. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded in understanding.