"They've got an old Indian in tow, as sure as you live!" cried Bluff.
"Where is he? I've just been wanting to get an Indian picture the worst way. Show him to me, please!" And Will came crawling hastily forth, of course clutching his beloved camera in his hand.
"H'm! I guess I know that old buck. It's Running Elk, the chief of the Crees. Something must have happened out of the usual order," said the ranchman.
When he learned what Frank had to say Mr. Mabie proved himself just such a man as the
others had believed him to be. He advanced to the Indian, who was standing there in stoical silence, with his blanket thrown over his shoulder, and held out his hand.
"I'm glad to meet you again, Running Elk, and sorry to hear about your trouble. But it will soon be all right. I'll see to it that the authorities learn about Pierre, and they'll get him before long. In the meantime, I'm going to give you a letter to my foreman. You take your little party to the ranch, and they'll see to it that you have plenty to eat until I come back home," he said.
The chief shook his head sadly.
"Bad! bad! Young braves no think when kill runaway steers. Never more can happen after this. Send skins to pay when get um. Glad get meat for squaw and pappoose."
That was the extent of his remarks.
"I guess Injuns ain't got much of a supply of words," remarked Will aside to Bluff.