"I don't belong to the sojers any more'n you do.
"_My chief's greater'n any sojers!_ He's got two battalions chasin' him now!"
This announcement produced a profound sensation among the braves and excitedly they jabbered.
But whatever his warriors were urging, their chief refused, again turning toward his prisoner:
"Paleface talk heap big. No fool Great Bear. Great Bear burn paleface at stake. Paleface frien's cum, Injun fight um, scalp um. Ugh! Ugh!"
And he sucked in his breath, making a gruesome sound.
But Comanche Tony refused to be frightened.
He knew that the Navajos were a peaceful tribe, as Indian tribes went, and he wondered what had sent them on the warpath, till suddenly he remembered the attack on the cabin Jesse had repulsed just before he had made his race for life from the Vigilantes, and it occurred to him that perhaps these were some of the same bucks seeking revenge.
If such should be the case, it would never do for him to disclose his identity.
Their words had told him that they had no fear of the cavalrymen, so that reference to them would stand him in no stead, and as minute after minute went by without any sound or sign of Jesse, his hope began to fail him.
Yet no trace was there in his face of what was passing in his mind.
Indeed, his wonderful coolness puzzled the redskins.
They had been accustomed to see white men cringe and tremble before them, and the words of Great Bear had doubtless been intended to strike terror to his heart.
But the fact that he was cool and indifferent made them think they had captured a man who knew no fear.
One more attempt they made, however, to break their captive's spirit.
After a consultation with two or three of his warriors, Great Bear spoke a few words in a low voice.
Immediately four bucks stepped from the circle about the fire, their scalping knives in their hands.
As with one movement, the braves raised their arms and lowered them, sending the wicked blades straight at their helpless victim.
Shrilly the knives whistled as they sailed through the air.
Fascinated, Comanche Tony watched the flashes of steel as they sped toward him.
Could any strain have been more nerve-destroying?
Any one of the four blades, should it strike a vital spot, would kill him.