CHAPTER XIX

ON GUARD

Ned Slade, who had started to run toward his quarry, all excited over killing the bear, stopped short at the sight of the party of redmen. Harvey Brill, too, was plainly at a loss over what to do.

“Indian bear!” repeated the leader of the Blackfeet. It seemed that he could speak some English, though previously he had talked only in his own guttural tongue. “Indian shoot--Indian bear,” he said, again scowling at our friends. The other redmen gathered in a circle back of their chief, and now it was noticed that they made no pretense of having no arms--their rifles were plainly in evidence.

“Guess we’re up against it, Mr. Brill,” murmured Ned, as he raised his rifle, intending to pump another cartridge into the firing chamber, and eject the discharged shell.

“Don’t!” suddenly exclaimed the Westerner, in a low but tense voice.

“Don’t what?” asked Ned.

“Don’t pump in another charge. This is a ticklish bit of work, Ned, and the least hostile act may make trouble. Don’t load your gun, or some of theirs may happen to go off--accidental-like. Keep cool, and I’ll see what can be done.”

“But can he claim our bear--the bear I shot before he did? There’s no doubt but that my bullet struck first, and the bear was almost down when he fired.”

“That’s right, my lad, but right doesn’t always go in this country. They’ve got the numbers. Still, I’m not going to give in without a kick. Of course it’s your bear, and a fine shot it was, too.”

Mr. Brill looked narrowly at the Indian chief and his followers. The redmen maintained a dignified silence, seeming to prefer to leave it to their leader to settle the dispute.

“Indian bear!” exclaimed the chief again, and he took a step toward the carcass of bruin, as if to see what the two whites would do toward disputing his claim. “Indian bear!”

“So you said before, Standing Horse,” remarked Harvey Brill, calmly. “I ought to know it by this time. I’m not deaf. Only I don’t quite agree with you.”

The miner, too, had dropped his jargon of Indian talk, and was speaking in English, since he saw that the redman used that tongue, though how perfectly was yet to be learned.

“Bah! White man heap smart--boys smart too. Come by eagle wings to get bear. Indian shoot first.”

“That’s not so, and you know it, Standing Horse!” exclaimed the miner, sharply. “We did come by eagle wings out to this country, and by that I suppose you mean our airship. But if you think we came here to be cheated out of our rights by you fellows, you’ve got another think coming!”

“Bah! White man think much--talk much,” half sneered the redman.

“Well, I always say what I think, which is more than I can say about you, Standing Horse, and them that’s with you,” retorted Harvey Brill. “What makes you claim that bear as yours? This young man here--and he owns part of the eagle machine--he shot that bear as cleanly as I ever want to see one toppled over. He fired first, and it wasn’t until after the brute was falling that you fired. Any of your men will say the same thing, too, if they want to tell the truth.”

“Indian always have straight tongue!” murmured the chief, and some of his followers could be heard to mutter as they gathered closer about him.

“I wish they did!” snapped Mr. Brill. “But it’s all nonsense for you to say that you killed the bear. It’s ours and we mean to have it--not that we actually need it, for I guess Bob has enough grub in his kitchen to last a month. But we want our rights, and we’re going to have ’em!”

Mr. Brill spoke sharply, and it was evident that his words produced an effect on the Indians, for they murmured angrily, and seemed to be urging their chief to take some action.

“That Indian bear!” sullenly repeated Standing Horse.

“Well, if that’s the way you feel about it, there’s only one way to settle this dispute!” declared the miner. “Here, Ned, hold my gun!”

“What are you going to do?” asked the lad.

“I’m going to prove to this cheating Indian whose bullet it was that finished the bear. That’s the only way. He’s got an old-fashioned rifle, and it doesn’t make half the size wound your soft-nosed mushroom bullet does. I’ll show him!”

Passing his rifle to Ned, Mr. Brill stalked forward toward the body of the bear. At the first sign of his advance the angry murmur among the Indians increased, and the chief quickly shoved another cartridge into the chamber of his weapon.

“Look out!” cried Ned, in apprehension.

“It’s all right,” answered the miner, reassuringly. “I know these fellows. They won’t fire until they’re more angry than they are now, and especially when they see I haven’t got a gun. Don’t worry. I’ll settle this thing!”

It seemed that he was right, for when the redmen saw that Harvey Brill had left his rifle with Ned, their murmurs subsided, and the chief lowered his gun.

“We’ll decide this right now, Standing Horse,” went on the Westerner. “I’ll cut out the bullets and prove to you that I’m right, and that this young man killed the bear. Come on, now, be a sport and take part in this post mortem examination.”

“White man sport--Indian sport!” said the chief, and, not to be outdone in “bluff,” Standing Horse passed his rifle to one of his followers and joined Harvey at the dead bear.

The two stood for a moment over the carcass of bruin, as though each was waiting for the action of the other. Then Harvey motioned courteously for the Indian to proceed to cut out the bullets to satisfy himself.

“White man cut,” spoke Standing Horse, briefly. It was a partial acknowledgment that he would play fair.

“All right, Indian,” replied Harvey, drawing a hunting knife, with which he had armed himself on leaving the airship camp. “I’ll do the cutting and I’ll prove to you that you’re in the wrong. There’s nothing like being fair and right, you know. Here goes!”

It did not take long to extract the bullet fired from the rifle of Standing Horse. It had not penetrated deeply, and, while in a spot that might have caused death from bleeding in time, it was not necessarily vital.

To get Ned’s missile, however, was a harder task, and Harvey had to cut deeply before he found it. Then he located it so near the heart that the organ itself was injured. Ned had aimed high, but his gun must have dropped as he pulled the trigger, for the bullet went in back of the right shoulder, taking a diagonal course and almost passing through the body of the beast. The motor boy’s gun was a high-powered one, and the bullet, mushrooming, or spreading out, had inflicted a deadly wound.

“There, you see!” exclaimed Harvey, triumphantly as he laid the two missiles side by side on the ground. “White boy’s bear!”

For a moment Standing Horse did not reply. Then he grunted out:

“White man speak with straight tongue. Indian no say what not so. Indian----”

“I know,” interrupted Harvey, with a laugh. “You want to say you were mistaken, that’s all. Go ahead, no hard feelings, only I knew I could prove it was our bear, and I want my rights, even if you are on the warpath.”

“Bah!” grunted the redman again, as he turned to go back to his followers. Evidently they had seen how the dispute had ended. They were not to get the bear, and they were disappointed for doubtless, since leaving, they missed the rations given out at their reservation which they had deserted. In all probability they were hungry, and the bear meant a feast to them, even though the meat was not at its best. Harvey Brill must have known this, for ere Standing Horse could join the group of redmen, and secure his rifle from the Indian who held it, the Westerner called out:

“Hold on, Standing Horse. Just because I proved that this was our bear meat doesn’t say we want it all. There’s more here than we can use, and, after we take off a few steaks you’re welcome to the rest. Indians can have most of the bear.”

“Ya! Ya!” grunted the chief, evidently in surprised delight. And then, with his customary disinclination to showing any emotion, the chief motioned to his followers the further result of the dispute. The redmen could not restrain a murmur of delight, which showed their hunger. Pleased smiles took the place of scowls, and Ned breathed in relief, for he feared there might be hostilities.

“I guess this will do us,” remarked Harvey, as he cut off some of the best portions. “Take the rest, Standing Horse.”

The Indians needed no second invitation, and soon were at work cutting up the bear. Others began making a fire, while Standing Horse, taking his rifle from the warrior who had held it, stalked off by himself in gloomy silence.

“Come on, Ned,” suggested the miner, as he reached our hero, carrying the steaks. “I guess we’ve done enough hunting for one day. Besides, I want to get back to the others.”

“Why?” asked the lad, struck by something unusual in the tone of the miner.

“Oh--I--er--well, I just want to tell ’em what happened. They may be anxious about us.” But Ned knew Harvey Brill had some other reason.

Jerry, Bob and Jim Nestor were greatly surprised on the return of the hunters, and more so when they heard the story. As for Professor Snodgrass, nothing seemed to worry him. He went on collecting his bugs, classifying them and making notes about them, as if nothing had happened.

“Don’t go too far away,” advised Mr. Brill to the little scientist, when the latter was about to start out again after hearing the story of the bear.

“Why not?” mildly inquired Mr. Snodgrass.

“Because I don’t altogether like the way those Indians acted,” was the reply.

“But don’t you think they were satisfied with the way you settled the dispute about the bear?” asked Jerry.

“Oh, yes, fairly so--as much as any hungry Indians could be satisfied. But those fellows are looking for trouble. They didn’t leave the reservation for fun, and they will be up to mischief sooner or later.”

“That’s right,” agreed Jim Nestor.

“Then what had we better do?” asked Jerry. “I can’t get the rudder in shape for another day or two. I’ve got to make a whole new part. We’ll have to stay here, for if we went up we’d just drift helplessly about. Is there any danger?”

“Well, I wouldn’t like to say there was,” answered Mr. Brill, slowly; “and yet I’m not so foolish as to say there isn’t. Those bucks are hungry, and a hungry Indian will do more than one that has had a good meal. Then, too, they know we’ve got lots of things aboard here that they’d like. Of course they may not get up spunk enough to attack us, and then, again, they may.”

“Then you think we’d better keep close around here?” asked Bob, pausing with a pan in his hand. He had been in the act of getting a meal when Ned and Harvey Brill returned.

“I think so--yes,” replied the miner. “And, I think we had better stand on guard, too--night and day. It won’t do to take chances. Jim, you and I’ll take turns watching for these beggars while the boys get the airship in shape to run. The sooner we leave these diggings the better I’ll like it. I’ll take first watch,” and, seeing that his rifle was fully loaded, the Westerner stalked off a little way in the woods to take up his position on a slight eminence that gave him a good view of the surrounding country.