"Beans?" inquired Rob, puzzled. "Oh, in Boston, you mean?" "No beans--beads," pouted the young squaw. "Ladies' beads. Round neck--savee?" Rob nodded. "Oh, yes, I savee, Susyjan. So you like beads, eh?" "Plenty much," rejoined Susyjan, nodding her smooth black head vigorously and showing her white, even teeth in two smiling rows. A bold idea came into Rob's head. Perhaps out of this young squaw's vanity he might contrive a means to escape. But he would have to go to work gradually, or she might betray him, and that would result, as he knew, in closer captivity than ever for himself. "What have they got me here for, Susyjan,--you know?" he asked. "Um-hum. Big Chief Spotted Snake him say bimeby get plenty much money for you. Have big dance." "Oh, that's the game, is it?" mused Rob. "Holding me for ransom. In that case, then, no wonder they are guarding me closely." "Say, Susyjan," broke out Rob presently, "how you like to have lots of beads--fine ones, like white ladies wear?" The Indian girl clapped her hands, which to any one familiar with these unemotional people indicated that she was hugely excited over the idea. Presently her face clouded over, however. "How can?" she asked. "Me give um you." "You?" "Yes. I'll give you the finest set of beads ever strung together, but you have got to do something for me." "What that?" "Bring a pony round to the back of the tent to-night." The girl shook her head positively. But Rob saw that mingled with her refusal was an admixture of keen regrets for the loss of the promised beads. She knitted her brow in deep thought for a few seconds, and then sprang up, radiant once more. "All right, white boy. Me get you pony. Charley One-Eyed Horse him very sick. I get you his pony." "All right, then, that's settled," said Rob cheerfully. "But how about you? Won't you get into trouble over it? I don't want that, you know." "Oh, no," laughed the girl. "Charley One-Eyed Horse my uncle. Him very old man. Pony very old, too--plenty mean. I break rope. Braves think pony bust 'em and get away." Although the ethics of this didn't seem just straight to Rob, he was in no position to be very particular. More especially as the girl went on to tell him that the tribe expected to move on the next day, making for the valley in which the great snake dance was to be held. In the event of his being carried with them, Rob knew that his chances of escape would be problematical. If he was to make the attempt, he would have to carry it out as soon as possible. How the rest of that day passed, the boy could never tell. The feigning of sleepy indifference to things about him cost him the hardest effort he had ever known. The hours seemed to drag by. It appeared as if night would never come.