Dick started to throw his gun to his shoulder. It was an involuntary movement, for he could have but little hope of escaping from that circle of enemies; but it was only to have the weapon snatched from his hands, while he was borne to the ground.
CHAPTER XXVIII
RUNNING ELK, THE SIOUX CHIEF
In spite of their struggles the two boys were made prisoners, as was the Mandan warrior. There seemed to be fully a score of the hostile braves; but Dick, as soon as he could look around him, after such rough handling, told his cousin they were not on the warpath, because they had not painted themselves, nor did they wear the feathers in their hair that would indicate a foray, and an expected battle.
It was evidently a hunting party in quest of fresh meat, and they had taken chances of falling in with some of their enemies in thus coming to the salt-lick, hoping to find game there.
They seemed greatly interested in the guns taken from the white boys. Apparently these were an almost unknown thing among the Sioux, who hunted with bows and arrows in those early days, just as their ancestors had done before them.
“What do you suppose they’ll do with us?” asked Roger, who looked forlorn. He had a scratch on his cheek, from which his face had become smeared with blood, although in answer to Dick’s anxious question he said that it did not amount to anything.
“Take us to their village, I’m afraid,” Dick answered, shortly, for he was trying to figure out some plan that offered at least a shred of hope; but, after many attempts, he was obliged to confess that he could see little relief ahead.
There followed considerable jabbering among the warriors. It seemed as though they were disputing about something, although Dick fancied that this was only their way of conversing.