"From the lodge of Pick-ne-quan-to has the wonderful Sacred Belt been taken. No Zuni would brave the wrath of Manitou by touching the gift of the Great Spirit. It has been said that one of the paleface boys was seen near by. I have come to demand that the Sacred Belt be restored again to my keeping. And if this is done the white boys shall be allowed to depart in peace; but before another night; for if they stay after darkness comes again even the power of Pick-ne-quan-to could not save them from the vengeance of the warriors, who would seek the blood of the foolish ones. I have spoken."

"But we did not take your Sacred Belt; and not one of us has ever been inside the lodge of Pick-ne-quan-to!" urged Adrian; who was trying to gain precious minutes of time, for as yet he could see no sign of Donald coming with the old chief to save the day.

The medicine man shrugged his shoulders at this. Doubtless he fully expected to hear a flat denial; Braddon may even have hinted that the boys would vehemently declare they had never set eyes on the stolen article; but that a search of their belongings might bring it to light.

"The white boy may say that, and yet how do we know he does not speak with a forked tongue, like the Little Father of the rattles? Will he let us enter his tent and see for ourselves?" the medicine man went on to say, doubtless following out a suggestion from Braddon, who hovered close to his elbow.

"We are willing that Pick-ne-quan-to and one of his braves enter, and search our tent, but not the white men," answered Adrian, boldly. "We do not trust them, and if they try to pa.s.s in, it will be bad for them, for we will shoot, and straight."

A hoa.r.s.e laugh that jarred on the ears answered him.

"Don't worry about us, youngster," called Braddon; "we're ready enough to let the Indians do the searching. Then they'll believe what their eyes show them."

He then said something in a low tone to the medicine man. Perhaps he was telling him to be sure and turn over the skins that lay upon the floor of the tent, since it was evident that if they had stolen the Sacred Belt the white boys would have been cunning enough to hide the same. And it was under these that Donald had discovered the strange object, one end of it being partly uncovered by a lucky chance.

So the two Zunis, the medicine man and a brave whom he selected, advanced eagerly, and vanished inside the tent.

They could be heard moving hastily around there, and evidently tossing the contents this way and that in their endeavor to locate the missing object.

Those without listened with vastly different emotions. The two boys were quite satisfied that nothing would result from this raid on their property; because, did they not know for a surety that the Sacred Belt had been carried away, concealed on the person of their chum, Donald; and that ere now it must be in the possession of the old chief himself, to whom was being told the whole story of the amazing duplicity of the pretended showman, who was only a thief in disguise, and planning to rob the Zuni people?

As for Braddon himself, it was hard for him to repress the triumphant grin that would force itself upon his dark face. He believed positively that the belt must be quickly discovered, and that his end would have been accomplished when the three Broncho Rider Boys were chased out of Zuni-land in disgrace, with such an angry crowd threatening them that they must needs hurry all they could to place many miles between themselves and the excited populace of the village.

As the seconds crept into minutes, and there was no loud shout of discovery made from within the tent Braddon began to manifest signs of uneasiness.

What if after all his ally had hidden the belt so securely that it could not be found? Adrian, watching closely, even saw the showman turn toward his companion and hastily say something; it must have been in the nature of a question concerning the place where the stolen belt had been secreted in the tent, for the younger scoundrel nodded back, and made a reply that gave Braddon comfort for another minute.

But this could not last much longer. Evidently those inside the tent had exhausted their resources, without finding anything worth while; for just then they came dejectedly out, the medicine man looking blacker than ever.

"What's all this?" roared Braddon, so surprised that for the moment he forgot his caution; "do you mean to say you haven't found the belt? Did you look everywhere-under the skins on the ground, and in their bags?

Ten to one my friend here would find it, if only you made them let him go back with you. Nothing escapes his eagle eye. Tell them that, Pick-ne-quan-to; make them let him accompany you! The belt must be found, and there is no more likely hiding-place than in the tent of these paleface boys, who have been prowling around your lodge so much!"

This sounded like good logic to the medicine man. When his powers failed why should he not take advantage of those belonging to another? If one of the white men were allowed to accompany him back into the tent, three pair of eyes might be better than two. He would demand that this be done. If the white boys still refused would it not look as though they were guilty, and that they feared lest the keen eyes of a paleface see through their trick?

And so, filled with this new determination, he turned toward the spot where Adrian and Billie stood, with their guns still pointed towards the party.

"You have heard what my white brother has said, and why should not his companion go with Pick-ne-quan-to into the tent, to look once more? The paleface boys do not dare refuse. If they say it must not be, then will the Zunis make them prisoners; and after that even the hand of the medicine man might not be able to save the despoilers of the Sacred Belt from the vengeance of the furious tribe."

CHAPTER XXV.

THE COMING OF DONALD.

"Oh! the brazen face of that old rascal, Braddon!" muttered Billie.

"_Please_ let me give him my compliments in his shoulder, Adrian! I'm looking along the barrel of my trusty gun right now, and have got the nicest bead on him you ever saw. Not that I'm savage by nature, or like to inflict pain; but he deserves it, sure he does, Adrian. Can I pull the trigger, did you say?"

His voice was really pleading, showing that Billie had been considerably worked up by the duplicity of the pretended showman; for, as he said, usually the stout chum was averse to scenes of violence, and avoided them whenever he could, without feeling that he was bringing disgrace on his head in so doing.

"No, no, don't think of it-yet!" said the other, hastily, but positively. "We haven't got to the end of our rope. If they do attack us, remember that under no conditions are you to injure a hair on the head of a Zuni brave. Give the white men all the wounds, because it is their doing."

"But what can we do to stave it off any longer, Adrian?" begged the fat chum.

"I hardly know," replied Adrian, himself at a loss to grasp any idea that promised hope; "if only Donald would hurry along everything might be well. You don't see anything of him, do you, Billie?"

"Not a thing, Adrian; and the way you say that makes me think of the old fairy story of Bluebeard, where the wife who is to go down to the old fellow, because she has seen the room where the heads of all his other wives are hanging, asks her sister to look, and see if the brothers are not coming on their horses to save her. Don't you remember she cries again and again: 'Sister Ann, sister Ann, look and see if there isn't a cloud of dust along the road; don't you see anybody coming this way?'

But Adrian, I don't glimpse even a cloud of dust. Donald sure is aholding back the worst ever; looks like he might get here too late, after all."

Once Billie got started talking it was difficult to stop him. Besides, Adrian did not make any attempt to do so, because every second they could delay matters counted for just so much in their favor.

Of course the medicine man was waiting impatiently to hear what the result of his last demand would be. When he saw the two lads talking he supposed they must be conferring, in order to reach a definite conclusion. And after all, what did a minute, or several of them for that matter, count; there was plenty of time still, before the exercises of the afternoon would be starting.

So he waited, calm and reserved, yet undoubtedly anxious; for the recovery of the precious belt meant much to him; even some shreds of his sacred office might be a.s.sociated with the return of the belt, for unless this were done how could he convince his people that nothing was impossible with him?

No matter what happened, Adrian was grimly determined that neither of the white men must be allowed to enter that tent. He would, if pushed to the wall, advise that it be taken down, and everything connected with it appropriated by the Indians. Surely that ought to a.s.sure the medicine man that they had nothing concealed under the old canvas that had been donated to the trip by their friend at the mine.

The question was, how could he continue the delay any longer? Already he believed that Braddon was beginning to grow suspicious, for several times the showman cast quick glances toward the village beyond the rocks, as though half antic.i.p.ating seeing some one coming on the run, perhaps the third paleface boy.

So Adrian once more started to speak, being as slow and deliberate as possible.

"Pick-ne-quan-to would be fair with his white brothers," he said. "He has looked in their tent, and did not find the Sacred Belt. If it were there it could not escape the eye of Manitou's messenger. Then why should a white man be able to find it? These white men do not like us.

They have tried to drive us away from the village of our friends, the Zunis. The chief knows why this should be so. Send then a warrior to the village to fetch your chief here, Pick-ne-quan-to, that he may be the one to judge what shall be done. If he says that a paleface can do what a Zuni medicine man is unable to accomplish, then we will agree to letting that man enter our tent. But not unless the chief says it. I have spoken."

Apparently the medicine man hardly knew what to say to this. Adrian had managed to get several clever little hints in his speech that appeared to satisfy the other he meant to be honest with the Zunis. And his proposal that they send for the head man of the tribe, was not that right?

Braddon immediately saw that there was a chance of a cog slipping in his cleverly arranged scheme unless he could manage in some way to inflame the other; so as to cause him to order his men to seize upon the two boys. He had found a convenient rock behind which he could drop, in case he had cause to believe the others meant to open fire on him; and this gave him new a.s.surance.

"Don't listen to him, Pick-ne-quan-to!" he called out, l.u.s.tily; "he's got a glib tongue for a boy, and means to deceive you. While we are waiting for the chief to come they will be doing something to make away with that belt. I tell you the chances are it must be there inside that tent; and if they let my friend a.s.sist you in the hunt, he is sure to find it. Don't you see that they are afraid to say yes to that, Pick-ne-quan-to? And if they were innocent would it matter at all to them who made the search? There is only one thing to be done, then; you should order your braves to make them prisoners. Then whatever you say, it shall be done."

Adrian himself was afraid that the old medicine man might be tempted to give the word that would send those three sinewy warriors flying across the ground that separated them from the two white boys. He hardly knew what they should do under such distressing circ.u.mstances, except that he hoped Billie might succeed in at least giving that treacherous pretended showman a severe wound when he fired, as he had promised to do.

It is always darkest before dawn, they say, and in his own limited experience Adrian had found the truth of this more than once. It happened now; and Billie, with his cheek pressing on the b.u.t.t of his leveled gun, was suddenly electrified to hear his comrade call out:

"Wait! it will be all right now, because there comes the chief!"

"Hurrah!" cried Billie, even raising his head to see for himself, no matter if he did lose that splendid aim on the left shoulder of Braddon, which he had been holding so steadily for at least one full minute now.

Yes, there were two figures approaching on the run, one of them the Zuni chief, and the other their own good chum, Donald.

No wonder Billie immediately felt so happy that he tore off his cowboy hat, and waved it wildly in the air as he let out a couple of whoops that would have done credit to Bunch, Corney, Alkali, or any of the other punchers who were his friends at Keystone Ranch.

Braddon seemed to be furious at sight of the two who were advancing so hurriedly. It may be that he feared the worst-something in the situation began to warn him that his missile had recoiled on his own head, and that the signs were not altogether so promising as they may have seemed a short time before.

He could be seen arguing with the medicine man, and the boys felt sure he must be trying to induce him to make prisoners of the young palefaces before the chief arrived, and took the power out of his hands.

But Pick-ne-quan-to was shrewd enough to see that Braddon was unduly excited over a matter that should not have concerned him to any great extent at all. He may have begun to entertain a dim suspicion of the truth about that time, and wondered just how it was one of the white men could be more successful than himself with regard to finding the lost emblem, _unless they knew just where it had been placed_!