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Updated: June 18, 2025
With his inky figure thrown in relief against the stars, his enemy could have picked him off as readily as if the sun were shining. This possibility, we say, did not present itself to Fred Greenwood, and, more providential than all, Motoza was not in the canyon. The slipping of one foot tore most of the sole from the stocking, and his foot had henceforth no protection against the craggy surface.
With the chronic grin on his painted face Motoza stood silent, as if the business was closed between them. "That gives us our supper, Fred, and we may as well go back to camp. Good-by, Motoza." The Sioux slightly nodded, but did not speak. Each boy, carrying his food, turned his back upon him and moved away in the direction of the camp.
"Well, that's a pretty good sum; I'm afraid my father wouldn't think I am worth as much as that; but there's no doubt, Motoza, he will pay you a good price; is it your plan to sell me to him?" The Sioux made no answer to this, though Fred repeated the question. The sullen silence of the Indian brought back the misgivings of the captive.
The white man was hunting for Motoza, but in the brief time at his disposal had not been able to find him, though he was confident of doing so on the morrow. Meanwhile, the white man wanted these three, or any one of them, if they should meet the aforementioned scoundrel, to repeat what he had said about him.
You can see that if it hadn't been fur that blunder of his, it would be you that your friend and me would be looking fur." "I wish it were," was the honest exclamation of Jack Dudley; "but how was it he came to form his partnership with Motoza?" "You've heard it said the devil takes care of his own; Bill and Motoza are old friends and have been in more than one shady job.
If Motoza should return the stolen boy within twenty-four hours, and it was found he was unharmed, the whole matter would be treated as a joke, and no punishment would be visited upon Motoza, provided he didn't do it again.
He was under Sitting Bull, and went with him into British America when it got too hot on this side of the line; but Sitting Bull come back, and Motoza follered. He tries to make b'leve he's a good Injin, and sometimes he is for months at a time on the reservation. Then the devil gits into him, and he's off somewhere."
He would have walked directly forward to the camp and warned the Sioux that if he harmed a hair of the youth's head his life should pay therefor. Since Motoza was not in the situation thus to be warned, the hunter did the next best thing. With no attempt to veil the sound of his footsteps, he strode into the circle of light thrown out by the Indian camp-fire.
Only the single word, "Stop!" was uttered, but it could not have startled the youth more than the whir of a rattlesnake under his feet. Before he could straighten up he turned his head like a flash. Not a rod distant, kneeling upon one knee, was Motoza, the Sioux, with his Winchester aimed at him!
"By shooting him from ambush; he could do it without being seen, and I can think of no way by which the guilt could be brought home to him." "You're off there. Motoza knows that you and me are in these parts, and that we're the friends of the younker; what had took place afore, with what I'd swear to, would hang Motoza, and he knows it."
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