e hand they managed to take hold of the
grunting Moqui, and in this primitive fashion began hauling him along.
Buckskin continued to prance and snort as though demanding whether he
had not amply fulfilled his duty as guardian to the camp; but no one
paid the least attention to him just then. Arriving at the tent the
boys proceeded to rekindle the fire.

"Why, he's coming to, Frank!" exclaimed Bob, as, having finished his
task, he turned to see his chum bending over the victim of Buckskin's
hoofs, and noted that the would-be horse thief was struggling to sit up.

"I don't believe he's hurt very bad," Frank declared. "I've felt all
over his body, and don't seem to find any signs of broken bones."

"Listen to him gasp right now, as if the breath had been knocked out of
him," remarked Bob. "He's going to speak, Frank, sure he is. I wonder
can we understand what he says. Moqui wasn't included in my education at
the Military Institution at Frankfort."

The Indian was indeed trying to get enough air in his lungs to enable
him to say something.

CHAPTER IX

"TALK ABOUT LUCK!"

"No hurt Havasupai!" was what he managed to say, hoarsely.

"We're not going to hurt you, old man," remarked Frank; for he had seen
that the Indian was no stripling. "What we want to know is, how you came
to get so close to the heels of my horse as to be kicked? Tell us that,
Havasupai, if you please."

There was no answer, although twice the exhausted red man opened his
lips as if to speak.

"That knocks the props out from under him, Frank," remarked Bob;
"because he was bent on getting away with one or both mounts."

"How about that, Havasupai; weren't you thinking of stealing a horse,
when that animal just keeled you over so neatly?" Frank demanded.

The Indian was sitting up now. His head was hanging low on his chest.
Perhaps it was shame that caused this: or it might have been a desire to
keep his face hidden from the searching eyes of the white boys.

Then, as though realizing the utter folly of denying what must appear so
evident, he nodded his head slowly.

"It is true, white boy," he muttered, in fair English. "Havasupai meant
to take a horse. He had looked upon the man who beckons, and he was
afraid, because he had trouble at his village. He believed every man's
hand was against him. And so he would flee to the desert where the white
man's big medicine would not find him. There he might die with the
poison snakes and the