"Ugh! No want him. Let pale-face wear him. Take off scalp by-and-by."
There was nothing very cheering in that, but Bill's head did feel a little safer with the hat on.
"Tell ye what, boys," he afterward said to his mates, "when that red-skin's hand tetched the brim of that hat, it felt as if the hull top o' my head was comin' loose."
It did not take those sixty Lipans long to find out all there was to be found in that camp. Their first and keenest interest was in the horses and mules, and the quality and number of these drew from them shouts of approval. The mules alone were worth any number of mustang ponies in a trade either with other Indians or with the border pale-faces.
Their first attempt at ransacking the wagons was sternly checked by old Two Knives.
"Maybe pale-faces got fire-water. To-la-go-to-de not want braves drunk now. Big fight, maybe."
Every brave among them knew the good sense of that, but they felt better satisfied a little later. The chief himself superintended a careful inspection of the wagons by two of his oldest sub-chiefs.
"He won't find a drop of any kind of liquor," growled Bill. "But I wish thar was some, and I could pisen it for him. They're a bad lot."
"Thar's too many on 'em for the boys to handle, I'm afraid."
"Captain Skinner's jest the man to try it and find out. Thar'll be a hot time, thar will."