"Yes, Pawnee Brown is my friend," answered Dick. "Where is he now?" he added, to throw the Indian off the series of questions he was propounding.
"Pawnee Brown dead!" muttered Yellow Elk simply. "White boy come with me."
"With you!" ejaculated Dick, a chill creeping up to his heart.
"Yes; come now. No wait, or Yellow Elk shoot!" and again the horse pistol was raised.
The tone was so ugly that Dick felt it would be use less to hang back. Yellow Elk pointed with his arm in the direction he wished the lad to proceed, and away they went, the Indian but a pace behind, and keeping his pistol where it would be ready for use whenever required.
Dick never forgot that walk in the starlight, taken at about the same time that Pawnee Brown was floundering in the quicksand. A mile or more was covered, over prairies, through a wood and across several small streams, for the fertile Indian Territory abounds in water courses. Yellow Elk stuck to him like a shadow, and the pistol was continually in evidence. Yellow Elk had likewise appropriated Dick's weapon, the one cast to the ground.
Presently a clearing was gained where stood a cabin built of logs. All about the place was deserted. Going
