Rube had made an important discovery. The dead Indian had been Dora's captor; this he had learned by following the three young bucks from the square, but beyond this he had not been able to proceed far.
“Every soul in an Indian town must be present at a sun-dance—captives and all?” said Midnight Jack. “So in all probability we shall have to go through it. But there is one who won't trouble us.”
“Yes, I know him; he keeps his word inviolate. We have but Tanglefoot to deal with.”
“He's the only one.”
“And now I'd rather harbour the thought of facing twenty Sioux than him to-morrow.”
“I'm not goin' to cross the river till I come to it,” said Rube, with a smile, which his companion could not see.
A minute later the two friends had fallen back upon their scanty pallets, and soon nothing but the regular breathing of the sleepers was heard in the gloom.
They did not see the burly figure that crawled from the rear of their lodge, and some distance away rose erect like a man.
It walked hurriedly through one of the narrow Indian streets, and entered a commodious lodge, which bore a resemblance to the tepees of the chiefs.
“Boy!” said the man, in a low tone. “Gopher Gid, are ye still with me?”