He had taken a dislike to Chauncy, probably because one of the men slain by the young man was a grand-son of his, and he left him out purposely when he mentioned that should a man come who could outride the “prairie kings,” the prisoners would be saved. He had not the least idea in the world that the man spoken of would appear, or that when he did come, he could even equal the Comanches at riding. He was somewhat surprised, therefore, when Barry got up and said he was the man. The circus-rider made a very fine speech, telling about a dream he had had, and how the Manitou had chosen him to ride with the Comanches.
The medicine-man was greatly astonished at this.
He had no idea in the world that the man he spoke of would appear, and yet he pretended that he knew he was coming.
The medicine-man of a tribe of Indians is generally some sharp fellow, who knows a few tricks which, though plain enough to a white man, he easily manages to gull the red-men completely with.
The Red Wizard, on this occasion, was greatly surprised when Barry got up and spoke, offering to ride against the best Comanche in the village, and a smile came to his lips.
He was glad, now, that the white man had offered to ride.
Now he should have one triumph over his rival, for the latter would be sure to get beat.
There was no chance for him at all. The Comanches live on the backs of their horses; but it did not occur to the mind of the red-man that Barry Le Clare had been reared on a horse—had been a celebrated rider at the early age of fifteen.
The red-skin felt sure of a victory over his fellow-wizard.
He would show the Comanches that the latter was not unconquerable. So when Barry seated himself again, the Red Wizard arose, and said that the Manitou had spoken the truth, the man had made his appearance, and now the next thing for the Comanches to do, was to watch the trial of skill.