“His wobbly legs,” said her husband smiling.
“It's a shame, Allan. What difference does it make what kind of legs a man has?”
“Very true,” replied her husband smiling, “and if you knew your Bible better, Mandy, you would have found excellent authority for your position in the words of the psalmist, 'The Lord taketh no pleasure in the legs of a man.' But, say, it is a joke,” he added, “to think of this being Smith's work.”
CHAPTER XII
IN THE SUN DANCE CANYON
But they were not yet done with Smith, for as they turned to pass into the house a series of shrill cries from the bluff behind pierced the stillness of the night.
“Help! Help! Murder! Help! I've got him! Help! I've got him!”
Shaking off the clutching hands of his wife and sister, Cameron darted into the bluff and found two figures frantically struggling upon the ground. The moonlight trickling through the branches revealed the man on top to be an Indian with a knife in his hand, but he was held in such close embrace that he could not strike.
“Hold up!” cried Cameron, seizing the Indian by the wrist. “Stop that! Let him go!” he cried to the man below. “I've got him safe enough. Let him go! Let him go, I tell you! Now, then, get up! Get up, both of you!”