CHAPTER XXV.

THE COMING OF DONALD.

"Oh! the brazen face of that old rascal, Braddon!" muttered Billie. "_Please_ let me give him my compliments in his shoulder, Adrian! I'm looking along the barrel of my trusty gun right now, and have got the nicest bead on him you ever saw. Not that I'm savage by nature, or like to inflict pain; but he deserves it, sure he does, Adrian. Can I pull the trigger, did you say?"

His voice was really pleading, showing that Billie had been considerably worked up by the duplicity of the pretended showman; for, as he said, usually the stout chum was averse to scenes of violence, and avoided them whenever he could, without feeling that he was bringing disgrace on his head in so doing.

"No, no, don't think of it--yet!" said the other, hastily, but positively. "We haven't got to the end of our rope. If they do attack us, remember that under no conditions are you to injure a hair on the head of a Zuni brave. Give the white men all the wounds, because it is their doing."

"But what can we do to stave it off any longer, Adrian?" begged the fat chum.

"I hardly know," replied Adrian, himself at a loss to grasp any idea that promised hope; "if only Donald would hurry along everything might be well. You don't see anything of him, do you, Billie?"

"Not a thing, Adrian; and the way you say that makes me think of the old fairy story of Bluebeard, where the wife who is to go down to the old fellow, because she has seen the room where the heads of all his other wives are hanging, asks her sister to look, and see if the brothers are not coming on their horses to save her. Don't you remember she cries again and again: 'Sister Ann, sister Ann, look and see if there isn't a cloud of dust along the road; don't you see anybody coming this way?' But Adrian, I don't glimpse even a cloud of dust. Donald sure is aholding back the worst ever; looks like he might get here too late, after all."

Once Billie got started talking it was difficult to stop him. Besides, Adrian did not make any attempt to do so, because every second they could delay matters counted for just so much in their favor.

Of course the medicine man was waiting impatiently to hear what the result of his last demand would be. When he saw the two lads talking he supposed they must be conferring, in order to reach a definite conclusion. And after all, what did a minute, or several of them for that matter, count; there was plenty of time still, before the exercises of the afternoon would be starting.

So he waited, calm and reserved, yet undoubtedly anxious; for the recovery of the precious belt meant much to him; even some shreds of his sacred office might be associated with the return of the belt, for unless this were done how could he convince his people that nothing was impossible with him?

No matter what happened, Adrian was grimly determined that neither of the white men must be allowed to enter that tent. He would, if pushed to the wall, advise that it be taken down, and everything connected with it appropriated by the Indians. Surely that ought to assure the medicine man that they had nothing concealed under the old canvas that had been donated to the trip by their friend at the mine.

The question was, how could he continue the delay any longer? Already he believed that Braddon was beginning to grow suspicious, for several times the showman cast quick glances toward the village beyond the rocks, as though half anticipating seeing some one coming on the run, perhaps the third paleface boy.

So Adrian once more started to speak, being as slow and deliberate as possible.

"Pick-ne-quan-to would be fair with his white brothers," he said. "He has looked in their tent, and did not find the Sacred Belt. If it were there it could not escape the eye of Manitou's messenger. Then why should a white man be able to find it? These white men do not like us. They have tried to drive us away from the village of our friends, the Zunis. The chief knows why this should be so. Send then a warrior to the village to fetch your chief here, Pick-ne-quan-to, that he may be the one to judge what shall be done. If he says that a paleface can do what a Zuni medicine man is unable to accomplish, then we will agree to letting that man enter our tent. But not unless the chief says it. I have spoken."

Apparently the medicine man hardly knew what to say to this. Adrian had managed to get several clever little hints in his speech that appeared to satisfy the other he meant to be honest with the Zunis. And his proposal that they send for the head man of the tribe, was not that right?

Braddon immediately saw that there was a chance of a cog slipping in his cleverly arranged scheme unless he could manage in some way to inflame the other; so as to cause him to order his men to seize upon the two boys. He had found a convenient rock behind which he could drop, in case he had cause to believe the others meant to open fire on him; and this gave him new assurance.

"Don't listen to him, Pick-ne-quan-to!" he called out, lustily; "he's got a glib tongue for a boy, and means to deceive you. While we are waiting for the chief to come they will be doing something to make away with that belt. I tell you the chances are it must be there inside that tent; and if they let my friend assist you in the hunt, he is sure to find it. Don't you see that they are afraid to say yes to that, Pick-ne-quan-to? And if they were innocent would it matter at all to them who made the search? There is only one thing to be done, then; you should order your braves to make them prisoners. Then whatever you say, it shall be done."

Adrian himself was afraid that the old medicine man might be tempted to give the word that would send those three sinewy warriors flying across the ground that separated them from the two white boys. He hardly knew what they should do under such distressing circumstances, except that he hoped Billie might succeed in at least giving that treacherous pretended showman a severe wound when he fired, as he had promised to do.

It is always darkest before dawn, they say, and in his own limited experience Adrian had found the truth of this more than once. It happened now; and Billie, with his cheek pressing on the butt of his leveled gun, was suddenly electrified to hear his comrade call out:

"Wait! it will be all right now, because there comes the chief!"

"Hurrah!" cried Billie, even raising his head to see for himself, no matter if he did lose that splendid aim on the left shoulder of Braddon, which he had been holding so steadily for at least one full minute now.

Yes, there were two figures approaching on the run, one of them the Zuni chief, and the other their own good chum, Donald.

No wonder Billie immediately felt so happy that he tore off his cowboy hat, and waved it wildly in the air as he let out a couple of whoops that would have done credit to Bunch, Corney, Alkali, or any of the other punchers who were his friends at Keystone Ranch.

Braddon seemed to be furious at sight of the two who were advancing so hurriedly. It may be that he feared the worst--something in the situation began to warn him that his missile had recoiled on his own head, and that the signs were not altogether so promising as they may have seemed a short time before.

He could be seen arguing with the medicine man, and the boys felt sure he must be trying to induce him to make prisoners of the young palefaces before the chief arrived, and took the power out of his hands.

But Pick-ne-quan-to was shrewd enough to see that Braddon was unduly excited over a matter that should not have concerned him to any great extent at all. He may have begun to entertain a dim suspicion of the truth about that time, and wondered just how it was one of the white men could be more successful than himself with regard to finding the lost emblem, _unless they knew just where it had been placed_!

At any rate he persistently shook his head in the negative, nor could any of the other's arguments convince him that he should proceed to act before the arrival of the head man of the Zuni tribe, who was coming at a faster gait than he had been known to undertake for many moons, he being an old man.

"Is it all right, Adrian?" asked Billie, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Looks that way," replied the other, scarcely able himself to restrain his feelings, so as to appear reasonable and calm.

"Then I don't get my chance to peg that Braddon, do I?" continued the fat chum, with a vein of dejection in his voice.

"Well, just keep an eye on him, Billie; and if either of them tries to rush the tent, let him have it; because they might mean to drop some other article they've gone and stolen, so as to put it on us," was what Adrian advised.

But neither Braddon nor his younger ally, whom the boys had dubbed Junior, seemed willing to take the risk of being shot; at any rate they gave up trying to induce the medicine man to lead a sudden swoop down on the boys, and standing moodily there, waited to see what was going to happen.

Of course the two defenders of the camp knew full well; since Donald had left them with the full intention of telling the old chief everything; and the presence of the latter at this critical juncture was pretty plain evidence that he had finally come to understand what a narrow escape he had had from falling into a trap, and being deceived by the man who claimed to own the greatest Wild West Combination in the country, and which allowed him to offer them wonderful terms to travel with his show, in order to exhibit the customs of the Zuni people in the Far East.

Donald had doubtless been very anxious when he first saw that the camp was in peril; but on discovering how his two dauntless chums seemed to be holding the allied foes in check, his face relaxed in a broad grin; and he waved his hand toward Adrian and Billie, as in company with the chief he arrived on the spot.

In his native tongue the head man addressed the Witch Doctor, and there could be no doubt but what he was asking what all this excitement meant. Then Pick-ne-quan-to started to reply, in his slow and vigorous way. From his gestures--for of course they could not understand his words--the boys knew he was telling how he had made the startling discovery that his lodge had been entered during his temporary absence, and the wonderful gift of the Manitou, being nothing less than the Sacred Belt, carried away. Then must have followed an account of how his suspicions were directed toward the white boys, and how he had come, backed by the strangers in the village who had expressed much interest in the recovery of the emblem, to demand the return of the belt; but that a search of the tent had failed to disclose the same.

And then came the grand surprise, just as Adrian and Billie anticipated, when the chief suddenly drew something out from under his blanket, and held it aloft, so that every one might see--the glittering Sacred Belt that had come from Manitou!