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Updated: May 15, 2025
That Hazletine was among acquaintances was proved by the hails which he received from cowmen, most of whom were so distant that the wonder was how they recognized one another. The boys studied them through their spy-glasses, but, of course, all were strangers to them. When the afternoon was about half gone they came upon a stream that looked formidable.
The younger lad bade his friend good-night and imitated the action of Hank Hazletine, wrapping his blanket around himself and lying down near the fire. He was not quite so prompt in sinking into slumber, but it was not long before Jack Dudley was the only one of the little party in command of his senses.
It wasn't Tozer, but the Sioux, that was fixing things so as to starve you to death." The cowman spoke with a deliberation and seriousness that left no doubt he believed every word uttered, and the boys were convinced he was right. "Bill is as mean as they make 'em," added Hazletine, "but he'd rather grab a pile of money than kill a chap he don't like. It's t'other way with the Sioux.
It was concerning this scoundrel, as Hank characterized him, that he had something to say. A white youth, while hunting that afternoon not far off, with his companion, had disappeared. Hazletine had looked into the matter far enough to discover that he had been stolen by Motoza.
"Surely we couldn't have found a better spot if we had hunted for a month," said Jack, admiringly surveying their surroundings. "This is to be our headquarters," explained Hazletine, "during the few days or the week that we spend in hunting here." "You mean that we are to spend each night in this place?" The guide nodded his head.
Jack Dudley decided to ask a question that had been in his mind for some time. "Hank, that Indian last night was in my power, and he knew it as well as I, but I spared his life and allowed him to ride away without a hair of his head harmed. Now, don't you think he will feel some gratitude for that?" Hazletine threw back his head with uproarious laughter.
It was a piece of paper, apparently the blank leaf of a letter. There was no writing or mark on it to indicate its ownership, but had it been the visiting-card of Fred Greenwood, Hank Hazletine could not have been more positive that it belonged to the young man. It was impossible that Motoza should carry writing-paper with him.
It was proof of the kindliness of Hank Hazletine that he made no mention of a strong suspicion that had been in his mind from the first. This was that when Tozer met Motoza he learned that the Sioux had already slain his prisoner, for Hank knew of the furious hate the fellow held toward the youth.
Saddles and bridles were removed, and the ponies turned free to crop the grass until they were filled, when they would lie down for the night. The blankets were spread on the ground near the spring, and then, at the suggestion of Hazletine, all three joined in gathering dried branches and limbs with which to start a fire.
He had learned the character of this vagrant from Hazletine, and it was plain that he meant to retain the valuable weapon, while Jack was equally determined he should not. "I tell you for the last time to give me my gun! Do you hear?" The demand was made in a loud voice and accompanied by a threatening step toward the Indian, who showed no fear.
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