“The Police!” he cried with unspeakable scorn, “the Police! They will flee before the Indian braves like leaves before the autumn wind.”
“What says he?” cried Cameron eagerly. And Jerry swiftly interpreted.
Without a moment's hesitation Cameron sprang to his feet and, standing in the dim light at the entrance to the cave, with arm outstretched and finger pointed at the speaker, he cried:
“Listen!” With a sudden start every face was turned in his direction. “Listen!” he repeated. “The Sioux dog lies. He speaks with double tongue. Never have the Indians seen a Policeman's back turned in flight.”
His unexpected appearance, his voice ringing like the blare of a trumpet through the cavern, his tall figure with the outstretched accusing arm and finger, the sharp challenge of the Sioux's lie with what they all knew to be the truth, produced an effect utterly indescribable. For some brief seconds they gazed upon him stricken into silence as with a physical blow, then with a fierce exclamation the Sioux snatched a rifle from the cave side and quicker than words can tell fired straight at the upright accusing figure. But quicker yet was Jerry's panther-spring. With a backhand he knocked Cameron flat, out of range. Cameron dropped to the floor as if dead.
“What the deuce do you mean, Jerry?” he cried. “You nearly knocked the wind out of me!”
“Beeg fool you!” grunted Jerry fiercely, dragging him back into the tunnel out of the light.
“Let me go, Jerry!” cried Cameron in a rage, struggling to free himself from the grip of the wiry half-breed.
“Mak' still!” hissed Jerry, laying his hand over Cameron's mouth. “Indian mad—crazy—tak' scalp sure queeck.”
“Let me go, Jerry, you little fool!” said Cameron. “I'll kill you if you don't! I want that Sioux, and, by the eternal God, I am going to have him!” He shook himself free of the half-breed's grasp and sprang to his feet. “I am going to get him!” he repeated.