“Not at all” answered Joe, “we’ll tie him to a tree and leave him there.”
“Then he vill be starve to deat’. Oh! dat is more horrobell!”
“He must take his chance o’ that. I’ve no doubt his friends’ll find him in a day or two, an’ he’s game to last for a week or more. But you’ll have to run to the willow-bluff, Dick, and bring a bit of line to tie him. We can’t spare it well; but there’s no help.”
“But there is help,” retorted Dick. “Just order the villain to climb into that tree.”
“Why so, lad?”
“Don’t ask questions, but do what I bid ye.”
The hunter smiled for a moment as he turned to the Indian, and ordered him to climb up a small tree near to which he stood. Mahtawa looked surprised, but there was no alternative. Joe’s authoritative tone brooked no delay, so he sprang into the tree like a monkey.
“Crusoe,” said Dick, “watch him!”
The dog sat quietly down at the foot of the tree, and fixed his eyes on the savage with a glare that spoke unutterable things. At the same time he displayed his full compliment of teeth, and uttered a sound like distant thunder.
Joe almost laughed, and Henri did laugh outright.