“The big man with the blue glass eyes is a villain,” said the Indian chief, after a long scrutiny of the botanist’s countenance.
“So some of my mistaken friends have thought,” returned the man, speaking for the first time in his natural voice, which caused a thrill to pass through Paul Bevan’s frame.
“He is a thief,” continued the chief, still gazing steadily at the blue glasses, “and a murderer!”
“He’s all that, and liar and deceiver into the bargain,” thought Tolly Trevor, but Tolly did not speak; he only vented his feelings in a low chuckle, for he saw, or thought he saw, that the robber’s career was about to receive a check. As the thought passed through his brain, however, he observed from the position in which he stood that Stalker—for, as the reader has doubtless perceived, it was he—was working his hands about in a very soft slow, mysterious, and scarcely observable manner.
“Oho!” thought Tolly, “is that your little game? Ha! I’ll spoil it for you!”
He quietly took up a piece of firewood and began, as it were, to amuse himself therewith.
“You has many faces, many colours,” continued Unaco, “and too many eyes.”
At the last word he plucked the blue glasses off the botanist’s nose and flung them into the fire.
“My enemy!” gasped Paul Bevan, turning first very pale and then very red, as he glared like a chained tiger at his foe.
“You knows him now?” said Unaco, turning abruptly to Paul.