The under man released his grip, allowed the Indian to rise and got himself to his feet.
“Come out into the light!” said Cameron sharply, leading the Indian out of the bluff, followed by the other, still panting. Here they were joined by the ladies. “Now, then, what the deuce is all this row?” inquired Cameron.
“Why, it's Mr. Smith!” cried Mandy.
“Smith again! More of Smith's work, eh? Well, this beats me,” said her husband. For some moments Cameron stood surveying the group, the Indian silent and immobile as one of the poplar trees beside him, the ladies with faces white, Smith disheveled in garb, pale and panting and evidently under great excitement. Cameron burst into a loud laugh. Smith's pale face flushed a swift red, visible even in the moonlight, then grew pale again, his excited panting ceased as he became quiet.
“Now what is the row?” asked Cameron again. “What is it, Smith?”
“I found this Indian in the bush here and I seized him. I thought—he might—do something.”
“Do something?”
“Yes—some mischief—to some of you.”
“What? You found this Indian in the bluff here and you just jumped on him? You might better have jumped on a wild cat. Are you used to this sort of thing? Do you know the ways of these people?”
“I never saw an Indian before.”