“I?” exclaimed Carl. “I can’t help you any.”

“Yes, you can. When the war was here—and I know about it, for I was on the Confederate side—they used to exchange prisoners, didn’t they?”

“I believe they did.”

“Well, now, ever since those two fellows Page 120 were caught I laid out to capture you the first time you crossed the reservation, and get you


to write a letter to General Miles, telling him that if he would let those men go I would let you go. But first there has got to be some little business between us.”

Carl leaned his head upon his hands, looked reflectively at the ground, 杭州下城区找服务 and thought about it. What he had heard went a great way to convince him that his circumstances were not as bad as he thought they were. The squawmen had sent these threatening messages to his father during his lifetime, and he supposed 杭州洗浴全套体验 that when he was captured there was nothing but death awaited him; but, somehow, General Miles 杭州妃子阁vivi had managed to capture two of the men who were given to holding up stagecoaches, and that had put a different view on the matter. This squawman—Harding, his name was—came to the conclusion that he had better go easy with Carl. He would offer to exchange him—one scout for two prisoners—and then he would be all right. He could afterward capture Carl, and do what he pleased with him. The scout saw through Page 121 his scheme as easily as the squawman did; and, furthermore, he was anxious to help it 杭州桑拿百花坊 along. Very cautiously he let his hands drop until they rested on his breast. There was one thing upon which Carl congratulated himself at the time of his capture, and that was that the squawman did not attempt to search his clothes in the hope 杭州spa油压 of finding more weapons. He thought that the rifle and single revolver were all he had; but stowed away in the inside pockets of his moleskin jacket were two revolvers which he thought might come handy in time. He could feel them now, as he allowed his hands to drop.

“Well, what are you thinking of?” asked Harding, as he lighted his pipe and sat down on a bed opposite to the one Carl occupied. “You can write, can’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I can write, but I don’t know that it will do any good,” said Carl.

“I will bet you can put it down to him so that it will do some good,” said the squawman 杭州养生按摩网 with a hideous smile. “Suppose you tell him that the only scout he has got at Fort Scott stands a fair chance of being tied up to the Page 122 stake if he don’t release my partners. What then?”

“Of course I can tell him all that, but you can make up your mind to be hanged if you are ever captured,” said Carl. “Is there anybody here who can read writing?”

“Yes; there are three fellows here who used to go to school at Carlisle,” said the squawman. “You see, after you have written the letter I will take it to them to see if you have read it to me right, and if you have I will send it off.”

“It is lucky I spoke to you about that,” said Carl to himself. “I’ll write such a letter as I am willing those Carlisle fellows should read. Do they, too, believe in the Ghost Dance?” he added aloud.

“I tell you that everybody believes in 杭州足浴价格 it who has seen it,” returned the squawman. “Everything goes to prove that it is a part of the religion that the white folks have got up for themselves.”

“In what way does it prove it?” asked the scout. He had a chance now to learn something about the Ghost Dance. He was more Page 123 interested in it than he was in effecting his escape.

“Why, this earth is going


to be destroyed,” said Harding. “It is all worn out now, the buffalo and all the other game is gone up, and we are going to have it new, as it was before the white folks came here and spoiled it all for us. Those who don’t believe in the Ghost Dance will all be killed by a fire or an earthquake or something, and those who believe enough in it to wear their ghost shirts will be saved.”