The savage thought a moment, then answered:
“Wiaquil.”
“The Dog that Sleeps—that’s good,” answered Kit. “Now let’s be off like a pot-leg. I’m uncommon anxious to see what kind of a Klamath I make.”
The garments which the twain had cast aside were deposited on a shelf above the bank, perhaps for future use, while those which belonged to the Modocs, and not used in the transformation, were thrown into the stream.
As the Modocs dress similar to the Klamath Lake tribes, Cohoon experienced no difficulty in finding good disguises, and they deemed themselves well hidden when they stuck their revolvers in their belts, and left the spot.
For several moments Kit and his red ally paused in the cave on their way to the trail of Jack and his band, and regaled themselves on a bit of food which Cohoon supplied from his pouch.
They conversed but little, and that in the Klamath tongue, which both spoke quite readily, and presently resumed the march.
As they entered the mouth of the corridor, which led to the Modocs’ new stronghold, a veritable giant dropped into the cavern through the same opening which had previously admitted the two spies to scenes of danger and death.
I say the new arrival was a giant.
He was six feet tall, and massively built. His skin betokened him a half-breed, and he was clad in the garments of the Western scout and Indian-fighter.