“Where did Mouseskin find silver pistols?” demanded Setting Sun, as he jerked the ornamented weapons from the young Indian's hands.
“In the hollow of the tree where the chipmunk hides,” was the response.
The four chiefs instantly came together, and Midnight Jack saw his pistols passed from one to another to elicit expressions of praise from the red lips, for they were silver-mounted and polished to a high degree.
“A name in the white man's talk!” suddenly cried Setting Sun, pointing to the inscription, “Midnight Jack,” which was engraven on the barrel of each. “When did the white man hide his pretty pistols in the hollow tree? Ah! our white brother can tell us his name.”
He turned to Tanglefoot as he spoke.
“I'll tell you whose they are,” he said, as he took the weapon from Setting Sun's hand.
“Well do I know these shootin'-irons,” and he held the weapons over his head.
Then Tanglefoot rose erect in the stirrups, and his right hand was suddenly extended till the dyed finger pointed straight at the form of Midnight Jack.
“Thar stands afore us the man who hid the pistols!” he cried. “He could not pull the wool over Tanglefoot's eyes. Come out an' face the music. An' thar hangs the other, playin' Injun, an' foolin' ye all!”
Tanglefoot's arm described a crescent, and the finger was now pointing at the Red Jingo hanging apparently lifeless from the torture-cord.