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"There is one member of the tribe beside Watusk who can speak English," he went on. "In the interest of justice I ask you to find her." "Who is it?" "Her name is Nesis. She is the youngest of the four wives of Watusk." Ambrose told her story briefly and baldly. "So!" said the inspector with a peculiar smile. "According to your own story you eloped with Watusk's wife. Upon my word!

It was impossible for Ambrose not to be impressed, ridiculous as Watusk's harangue was. There were the men, not less than two hundred and twenty police to be attacked. Watusk now rode around the circle, addressing his men in their own tongue, singling out this man and that, and issuing instructions. It was all received in the same silence.

Watusk's smooth, flabby face was as blank as a plaster wall. "I have brought your flour," said Ambrose with a note of exultation justifiable under the circumstances. Watusk was not impressed. "It is well," he said with a stolid nod. Ambrose was somewhat taken aback. An instant told him that Watusk alone of all the tribe was not glad to see the flour. Ambrose scented a mystery.

I want jump in river; but the priest say that is a bad thing. "I can' go back to Watusk's teepee no more. If he touch me I got kill him! That is bad, too! I don't know what to do! I want be good so I see my fat'er bam-by!" Ambrose groaned. She thought he was relenting, and came and wound her arms about him. "Tak' me wit' you," she pleaded like a little child. "I be good, Angleysman!"

The inspector, feeling that some explanation was due to Ambrose, had him brought to his tent again. "I have searched," he said. "I can find no trace of any such person as you describe." "Naturally, not with Watusk's help," said Ambrose bitterly. The inspector bit his lip. According to his lights he was honestly trying to be fair to the prisoner.

"I keep you here so people won't hurt you," Watusk went on. "My people lak children. Pretty soon forget what they after. Pretty soon forget they mad at you. Then I let you out." "Do you still mean to say that I killed one of your men?" demanded Ambrose hotly. Watusk shrugged. "Myengeen say so." "It's a lie!" cried Ambrose scornfully. An expectant look in Watusk's eye arrested him from saying more.

"Good-by," returned Ambrose ironically. Ambrose walked his floor, studying Watusk's words from every angle. The result of his cogitations was nil. Watusk's mind was at the same time too devious and too inconsequential for a mind like Ambrose's to track it. Ambrose decided that he was like one of the childish, unreasonable liars one meets in the mentally defective of our own race.

"She believed that her father's ability to speak English had threatened Watusk's power in the tribe, and that Watusk, on that account, had had her father put out of the way. Therefore she kept it a secret that she could speak it, too. "Nesis said that all of Mr. Strange's and Watusk's talk was against the white people.

You have been here two weeks without hunting." Again Watusk's eyes narrowed like a sulky child's. "Must the Kakisas got hunt every day?" he asked spreading out his hands. "The people are weak with hunger. We got eat before we travel." Ambrose left this interview in a highly dissatisfied state of mind.

"Didn't she help me out of here?" "You lak talk wit' her, I t'ink." Ambrose thought fast. The only English words Nesis had spoken in Watusk's hearing were her cries of fright at his appearance. In the confusion of that moment it was possible Watusk had not remarked them. "Talk to her?" said Ambrose, simulating surprise. "Only by signs." "How she get you out, then?" Watusk quickly asked.