He even shook his finger threateningly at them; and somehow the action
angered Donald, who was quicker to flare up than Adrian. Billie was
sitting up by now, and listening, with widely distended eyes, and open
mouth.
“Oh!” said Donald, “I reckon, now, you’re doing all that talking about
my chum advising the old chief that his medicine man was right in saying
they would risk the ill will of the Manitou of the Zunis, if they took
their sacred dance away from the spot where it has been done year after
year for centuries, and made it the laughing stock of a rude crowd of
white people at a circus. Well, the chief asked his opinion, and he had
a right to give it, as any other person might.”
“Yes,” added Adrian just then, “of course it doesn’t matter a red cent
to any of us whether the chief takes up your offer or not; but I’ve got
my opinion about whether he’d be a fool to try it, and so I told him. I
don’t know you, Mr. Braddon, and I’m not saying that you wouldn’t deal
honestly with these simple people; but I do know that they would never
be the same again after they came back. That was what I asked him; and
I’d do just the same again if any of the other Indians wanted to know my
opinion.”
The big man looked at the speaker in surprise. He had doubtless counted
on being easily able to cow these young fellows, who were only boys at
best, while he had a fierce look, and in his own mind at least a
resistless way of domineering.
“I give you fair warning right here and now,” he went on to say,
furiously, “that unless you keep your hands off my personal business
you’re going to think you’ve run up against a buzz-saw. I ain’t in the
habit of knuckling down to a set of kids, when I plan a big thing for my
show; and I won’t stand for it, hear that? Why, I’ve got a good notion
to give you a lesson right here and now.”
He had assumed an attitude that looked dangerous, as though his passions
had run away with his judgment; and Adrian was sorry that neither he nor
Donald chanced to have anything along just at that critical moment in
the way of firearms, with which to make things seem more even.
“Oh! I wouldn’t do that, mister, if I was you,” drawled a voice just
then.
Of course it was Billie, and as all of them glanced toward the spot
where he was squatted, they saw him handling his pet Marlin repeater.
Somehow the sight of that gun seemed to make the fierce showman change
his mind. He shrugged his broad shoulders, and allowed a cynical smile
to cross his face.
“Never mind raising that weapon, son,” he called out; “on second thought
I guess I’d have been a fool to lay a hand on any of you. But just keep
my warning in mind, and leave my plans for amusing the public alone,
will you? I give you my word you’ll be sorry if you bother me any more.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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