Frank Denison became silent; but he grated his teeth, and bit his pale lips as he moved on from the renegade’s sight.
Kenoagla did not catch all the young girl’s words; but the appellation bestowed upon him, in her first sentence, fell indistinctly upon his ears, and he flashed a fearful scowl upon her.
“My young lady, you’ll rue that, some of these fine days,” he murmured. “You are completely in my power, and all the gold in the United States Treasury could not ransom you therefrom. And your father—if he gets an opportunity to tell the Government about Tom Kyle, then I’ll give my clothes to Red Eagle, and transform myself into a squaw!”
His white teeth met behind the last word, and the next moment he turned to a young chief that sat near.
“Ready, Red Eagle?”
The Pawnee nodded.
Then the renegade faced his band, and the next moment every steed was riderless.
He, however, retained his perch, and made up to Red Eagle, who was standing on the ground beside his white mustang.
“Up.”
Red Eagle vaulted nimbly to his old perch.