"We come to camp soon—girl in too much hurry," rejoined the wily redskin.
"I was told the camp was but a short distance out of town."
"Camp he move. Pawnee Brown not safe near big town," went on Yellow Elk.
"You're a good one for fairy tales," was the boomer's silent comment. He had withdrawn to the shelter of the thick brush and sat his steed like a statue, while his pistol was ready for use, with his forefinger upon the trigger.
"But—but—what happened to me?" went on Nellie, struggling to sit up, while Yellow Elk held her back.
"White girl lose breath and shut eyes," was the answer, meaning that Nellie had fainted. "No more fight—Yellow Elk no hurt her."
"I will go no further with you—I do not believe your story!" cried Nellie. "Let me down."
At these words the face of the Indian chief grew dark, and he muttered several words in his own language which Nellie did not understand, but which Pawnee Brown made out to be that the White Bird was too sweet to be lost so easily, he must take her to his cave in the mountains.
"Will you?" murmured Pawnee Brown. "Well, maybe, but not if I know it."
