Grant’s companions sat and looked at him in amazement not unmixed with alarm. They could see no reason for his strange behavior and were at a complete loss what to make of it. They watched their comrade execute a war dance around the entrance to the cave for some moments and finally disappear within, uttering one last triumphant whoop.
“What struck him?” exclaimed John in perplexity.
“He’s gone crazy I guess,” said Fred. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“Ah believe yo’ am right,” said Sam in a hollow voice. “Ef he try to mess me up Ah sho’ gwine use dis knife.”
“Put that away, Sam,” said John, sharply. “Don’t be silly.”
“But ef he’s crazy,” protested Sam, “Ah suttinly boun’ proteck mahself.”
“He’s not crazy,” exclaimed George. “He’ll be out in a minute and tell us just what is wrong with him.”
“Go and see what he’s doing, Pop,” urged Fred.
“I will not. He said he’d got it and he might get me, too. What do you suppose he was talking about anyway?”
“Here he comes now. Ask him.”