Pawnee Brown had tried in vain to get Spotted Nose and the other Indian to talk—to tell him why they had left the reservation. Not one would speak further than to tell him to keep quiet.
On returning, Yellow Elk at once set to work to rig up an upright pole from the floor to the ceiling of the cave, using a heavy tree branch for the purpose. The upright was placed close to where the smoke from the fire found a vent through several large cracks in the ceiling, and the boomer watched these proceedings with much alarm.
The Indians were erecting a fire-stake, such as they had used in the wild west when some victim was to be roasted alive!
"Heavens! can that be meant for me?" was the question he asked himself.
The stake planted and fastened firmly, Yellow Elk heaped some fresh, dry brush around its bottom and then came up to Pawnee Brown.
"Pawnee Brown see the fire-stake?" he asked, his savage eyes gleaming like two stars.
"I do, Yellow. Who is it for?"
"Why does Pawnee Brown ask? Does he not deserve death?"
"I suppose I do—according to your notion."
"Pawnee Brown shall burn—he shall burn
