"I'd call it—— Jedge, it's jest so. Sile's right. I'd kinder lost my head. Look a-here, redskin, next time you come for hosses you won't get off so easy. I'll unhitch ye now, and let ye up. There now, Sile, shake hands with him."
"How?" said Sile, as he held out his hand to the loosened captive.
"How?" said Two Arrows, and he said it a little sullenly, but he had been glancing from Pine's face to Sile's and understood pretty well that the latter had stopped the proposed work of the black-snake.
"Make him a present of something, Sile," said his father. "Here—give him this."
It was a small round pocket-mirror, worth twenty-five cents, but there was no telling what it was worth in the estimation of such a boy as Two Arrows—perhaps a pound or so of gold nuggets, if he had them, or the skin of his grisly bear, after the glory of killing it had worn a little thin. At all events, he was a most astonished Indian. Evidently these monsters in human form were disposed to be friends with him—particularly this red-headed young chief who had proved himself so good a wrestler. All he had ever heard of pale-faces was against believing it, but there was no chance of escaping from the ring of riflemen now gathered around him, and he gave it up. He answered Yellow Pine's questions by signs only, until something he said brought an exclamation from the old miner Jonas.
"Nez Percé! He's a Nez Percé, Pine. I know their lingo. He can talk some English, too. He needn't play 'possum any longer."
Two Arrows felt that he was completely beaten, and even pride failed to carry him any farther. It came to his mind, also, with a peculiar force, that he was by no means sure of the approval of Long Bear and his warriors. They had not sent him out to kill pale-faces and bring upon them the vengeance of the terrible "brass-button men" he had heard of. He had seen a few of them, and had wondered at their great knives, twice as long as his arm. He decided to speak out now, and in a few moments Jonas had pumped him thoroughly.
"He isn't on any war-path," said Yellow Pine to Judge Parks; "he's jest a fool of a boy. We'll keep him till mornin' and carry him over to his own camp. It's the best way in the world to make friends with 'em."
"All right," replied the judge; "we must get out some presents. See that he doesn't get away."
"I'll look out for that—you bet I will."