of the tail of
his eye saw answering scowls gather on the faces of the other Indians as
they listened. Myengeen's gestures were significant; with a sweep of his
arm he called attention to the number of his followers, and then pointed
to Stonor, who was but one.

Imbrie said with a sneering laugh: "He's telling me that I have only to
say the word, and you'll never take me."

"Rubbish!" said Stonor coolly. "Men do not oppose the police."

They could not understand the words, but the tone intimidated them.
Their eyes bolted as he looked sternly from man to man. He saw that look
of angry pain come into their eyes that he knew in their race. It was
not that they did not wish to defy him, but they dared not, and they
knew they dared not.

"Oh, I'm helping you out, old man," said Imbrie, with airy impudence.
"I'm telling them I don't mind going with you, because you've got
nothing in the world against me. I'm going to give them some good advice
now. Listen."

He did indeed address Myengeen earnestly at some length. Stonor could
not guess what he was saying, for he used no gestures. He saw that it
was true Imbrie was unpractised in their tongue, for he spoke with
difficulty, hesitating for words, and they had to pay close attention to
get his meaning. Myengeen listened with a face as inscrutable as
Imbrie's own. At the end he nodded with an expression of approval, and
bent a queer look on Stonor that the trooper was unable to fathom.

Imbrie then tied his bed behind his saddle and swung himself on the
horse. Stonor signed to him to start first, and they trotted out from
among the tepees. Stonor sat stiffly with the butt of his gun on his
thigh, and disdained to look around. The instant they got in motion a
wailing sound swept from tepee to tepee. Stonor wondered greatly at the
hold this fellow had obtained over the simple people; even the Kakisas,
it seemed to him, should have been able to see that he was no good.

They trotted smartly over the first ridge and out of sight. A long,
grassy bottom followed. When they had put what Stonor considered a safe
distance between them and the village, he called a halt. Picketing the
horses, and building a fire, he set about preparing their simple meal.
Imbrie seemed willing enough to do his share of unpacking, fetching wood
and water, etc.; indeed in his cynical way he was almost good-natured.

As they sat over their meal he said tauntingly: "Why are you afraid to
tell me what t