“Very well, Red Dick,” said the chief. “Now, my plan is that you take the greater part of your redskins up the river above the camp, and, taking to the water, swim down and attack them from that quarter, while I keep up a constant fire upon them in our front.
“When you have landed and given the signal, I will charge with my men, aided by those you leave with me.”
“It’s a good plan, Ricardo, and we’ll set out at once,” replied Red Dick, and accompanied by the greater number of his savage men, the desperado strode away, leaving a small guard over his horses.
As cunning as Red Dick was, and as wicked, he was no match for Ricardo, for he had not anticipated that the chief would betray him.
But hardly had the renegade and his red allies been gone fifteen minutes, when the remaining Indians were quietly surrounded by the Branded Brotherhood, and, wholly unsuspecting treachery, were suddenly terrified by being unexpectedly set upon by those whom they believed their friends.
Without warning, the Brotherhood instantly rushed upon the Indian warriors, and before the slightest resistance could be offered, a score of them lay dead upon the prairie.
And still the work of slaughter went on, until the few remaining savages crouched together in dismay, not knowing which way to turn; for, although it was the Indian method to surprise and massacre defenseless victims, they had never before had the tables turned upon them.
“Kill every cursed red heathen; leave not one to escape and warn his companions,” cried Ricardo.
In vain did the terrified wretches attempt to break through the human barrier that surrounded them, but everywhere they were met by steel and bullet.
At length the slaughter ended. Then, with a grim and cruel smile, Ricardo turned to Red Roark and said: