There was no help for it, and the youth did as requested.
"White boy got udder shooter?"
"No."
"Now say if white boy alone. Speak if want to save life."
"Yes, I am alone, Yellow Elk."
"Ha! you know Yellow Elk?" cried the Indian in surprise.
"I've heard of you."
"What white boy do here?"
"I am lost."
"Lost. Huh!" and a look of disgust crossed the Indian chief's face. The idea of a human being losing his way was something he could not understand. During his life he had covered thousands of miles of prairie and forest lands and had never yet lost himself. Such is the training and instinct of a true American aboriginal.
While speaking Yellow Elk had leaped through the brush, and now he came up and peered into Dick's face. Instantly his eyes filled with anger.
"I know white boy; he friend to Pawnee Brown. Indian see him at big moving"—meaning the camp of the boomers. He had not noticed Dick in the fight at the cave.
