But for the superstition of the Indians, Barry could never have played this trick upon them.
The Indians lost no time in giving back to the prisoners every thing that had been taken from them.
The little Frenchman danced for joy when he once more got his hands upon his case and umbrella.
He examined the former carefully to see that none of the vials were missing, but found to his great joy that it had only sustained a little injury while in the hands of the Indians.
All the time Monsieur Tierney kept up a rattling volley of words which were a mingled crowd of thanks for the aid of Barry, denunciations on the heads of the Indians, and exclamations of delight when he found some valuable specimen uninjured.
Indeed, the Indians had only got at the vials, and the fellow that had got at these would never do so again.
The Indians grinned to see the curious little fellow marching up and down with the umbrella fastened to his back and his case in his hand. He had a revolver in his belt, about five inches long, which might make a man sick if discharged down his throat.
The trapper had his revolvers, rifle, knife and every thing that belonged to him. One of the Comanches tried to keep his tobacco-pouch, but Ralph missed it, and Red Buffalo, fearing to bring down the vengeance of the Manitou upon the village, made the warrior give it up, much to his disgust, and to the great delight of the trapper, who immediately went to business and took a “chaw.” Then the two mounted their horses and rode off, carrying with them all of their possessions.
The trapper had a piece of paper in his hand which had been slyly given him by Barry before they left the village.
The trapper did not intend to go far. He would not leave the son of his old friend to his fate.