There was nothing at all suspicious about this, and Dick was beginning to believe the vague fears that had oppressed him must have been the result of too much imagination, when without the slightest warning something happened.
He saw a dark object drop from the branches of the tree directly upon the back and shoulders of poor Roger, who was instantly carried to the ground. Dick’s first inclination was to give a shout, and raise his gun, for he had seen their dusky guide pounce upon the weapon which Roger had laid on the grass at his feet.
Before Dick could make a move, however, he too felt a heavy weight strike him on the shoulders so that he was knocked to his back; and, as he lay there gasping for breath, he looked up into the painted faces of several Indian warriors who came dropping from the trees as though they were over-ripe plums in a gale of wind.
After all, the supposed friendly Indian had played them false, and had actually led the two boys into a cleverly arranged ambuscade.
CHAPTER XIV
PRISONERS OF THE DACOTAHS
Dick knew the folly of resistance when he saw that, besides the two warriors who held him down, there were half a dozen others nearby. Roger, always impulsive and headstrong, was struggling desperately, though without the slightest chance of breaking away from his captors. Understanding what was taking place close by, Dick called out:
“Give up, Roger; it is foolish to fight against such odds. You will only be hurt for your pains, and nothing gained. Leave it all to me!”
Not only did Roger hear these words, but his own good sense told him the wisdom of yielding to overwhelming numbers. But it was always a difficult thing for Roger to believe in the old saying to the effect that “he who fights and runs away may live to fight another day.”