Chapter V: Two Queer Men

Chauncy heard a commotion in the village shortly after daybreak. Soon the door of the lodge was opened and a couple of men who had their hands tied behind them just as he did, were thrust in.

They did not see Chauncy, who was standing in a corner of the lodge. They had just come in from the light, and could not see in the dim room for several moments. Chauncy could see them plainly, however, and he saw that there was a slight difference in size between the two men. One was about six feet three, while the other could not be over five feet at the most.

The first was a trapper, being dressed in tanned buckskin, while the second man was clothed in a suit of broadcloth.

Who were these two men, who seemed so entirely opposite?

Chauncy did not ask the question. There was no need of it, for as the little man entered the lodge, urged on by the foot of the Indian guard, he immediately staggered and fell on his back. Struggling to his feet he turned his back to that of his comrade.

“_Sacré_,” cried the little man, in unmistakably French accents. “It is von shame to throw a citizen of la belle France about in that vay. I s’all complain to de Emperor an’ he will adjust de difficulty. If you please, monsieur, I would be much obliged if you give my back von leetle scratch. It feels itchy.”

“Why, you frog-eating Parley Voo. D’ye think I’m a scratchin’-post? I didn’t hire out fur that. Ye ought to know Ralph Bison better nor that. Go an’ scratch yer pesky back ag’in’ the side o’ the lodge,” exclaimed the other, in a sour tone.

“_Diable_, your advice is good, monsieur, and I s’all follow out von glorious idea. I may rub a hole through the vall an’ we s’all escape,” and the little Frenchman was about to do what he said, despite the laughter of his comrade, when the voice of Chauncy made one straighten his face and the other forget the itch in his back.

“So this is Ralph Bison, is it?” asked the young hunter.

“Yas, I’m the feller ye mention, commonly called,” said the trapper, recovering from his surprise at being addressed, when he thought he and the Frenchman were alone.

“Well,” said Chauncy, “I wanted to get you to go out on the plains with me, but I found you had gone off with a naturalist, and I suppose monsieur must be the gentleman;” with a bow in that direction.

“_Parbleu_, but you are quite right, monsieur. I am sure it is von happy meeting. I’m from France, and am Monsieur Tierney.”

“And I am Chauncy Branrare, of New York,” said the other.

“What’s that, boyee? Air ye any relation to Capten Branrare that fit in the Mexican war?” questioned the trapper.

“He is my father. He told me to hunt you up, Ralph, and though I expected to see you before I went East again, yet I assure you I had no expectation that we would meet thus.”

“Yer hand, boyee. So ye are the cap’s son. Come over ter the light. Dang it if you don’t look just like him now. But how in the mischief did ye come hyar? Reds caught ye a-nappin’, I guess.”

“Not much,” returned our hero, and he then proceeded to tell his story.

The hunter’s eyes opened wide when he learned that Chauncy had killed five of the Comanches before he was captured.

“Yer hand ag’in, boyee. Ye beat yer daddy. Why I only knocked over three, and the Frenchy nearly killed one wid his umbrella afore they got us,” said Ralph.

“Oh, mine poor umbrella. It is von shame for the noble red-men to take it from me. I have been to Africa, and half-vay around de vorld, an’ de umbrella vas vith me alvays. I s’all certainly complain ven I get home,” said Monsieur Tierney.

“But ye’ll never git home, Parley Voo. The reds intend ter roast ye an’ have some fun out o’ ye,” said Ralph.

“Mon Dieu, but de red-men vill not do dat. Dey vill no hurt a poor Frenchman. Begar, I vill send von complaint to de Emperor, an’ den I vill get avay. Now vat you think, monsieur?”

“I think yer a durned fool, thet’s what I think. We are lookin’ death in the face now, an’ things look bad fur us.

“What’s all that row about, boyee? Thar’s somethin’ up,” said the hunter, as he walked over to the window.

Upon looking out he could at first see nothing, but soon the circus-rider, mounted on his snow-white horse, and followed by the Indians, came in sight.

Ralph knew not what to make of it, and he called his comrades to his side. The three looked out of the small barred aperture, and Chauncy saw at a glance what the man was.

The Frenchman understood him when he mentioned what the rider was, but Ralph had to have it explained to him.

But what was the man doing here?

He did not seem to be a captive, neither did he seem to belong to the village. It was an enigma that none of the trio could solve.

That the man had some purpose in coming to the village was certain, for no man would be foolish enough to go in among his enemies, unless he had some object in view.

They could not hear the words that were uttered, but they saw the warriors as they started forward, and then saw them fall upon their knees around the mysterious rider and his white steed.

Who he was they could not guess, neither could they think of any reason that would make the Indians afraid of him.

The Red Wizard soon got up and went off, followed by the pale-face and his horse. The Indians gave way for them, and dared not go within five feet of the stranger, for fear they should accidentally touch him, and they remembered what the Manitou had said respecting their touching him.

They did not want to be killed by a thunderbolt, and hence they kept away from the White Wizard.

The latter by using his ventriloquist powers had completely subdued the magician, and the latter now feared him greatly.

The Comanches were afraid of their Wizard, for they had seen the inside of his hut, and they knew that it contained such things as skeletons, snakes, reptiles, and many other horrible things.

Therefore when a person appeared who could make the Red Wizard bow to him, it was but natural that they should fear him.

Barry Le Clare was shown to the large medicine-lodge, and he entered, taking his horse with him.

The Red Wizard waited at the door of the cave in the hope of seeing the pale-face hold communication with the Manitou, but a keen glance from the sharp eyes of the latter scared him, and thinking that the latter might call down the curse of the Manitou upon him, he hurried off.

The Indians had resolved to show the White Wizard a fine sight that morning. This would be the burning of the three prisoners.

Soon after the pale-face had disappeared in the medicine-tent, a loud howling arose in the village.

The French naturalist carried a little case with him, in which to put the rare things that he found.

The Comanches had taken this, and a huge green umbrella made of the strongest silk, from monsieur when he was captured.

After the Wizard had gone, one Indian, more curious than his brethren, opened the case and began tasting what was in the little vials. Soon he began to feel a little sick, and a crowd gathered around. He got worse every ten seconds, and at length, swollen up terribly, he lay upon the ground, dead.

It was then that the howls echoed through the village.

Not one of the Indians would touch either the box or the umbrella after this. Even the magician was afraid of them, for he said that even the touch of a bottle was poison.

Barry came out to see what the noise was, and he increased his popularity with the Indians by tasting a dozen bottles.

He could read the names on them, which the Indians could not.

One of the Indians thought he could do the same, and signified as much. By a sleight of hand Barry changed the bottles, and the man thought he had the same one the pale-face had just tasted.

It proved to be an emetic, and the fellow soon amused the rest of the Indians by his working face and heaving stomach.

The pale-face shut up the case and took it into the medicine-lodge, where he had left his horse.

Soon after, the three prisoners were brought out to be tried before the council, and to be doomed to the stake.