He knew that the old medicine man could speak English almost as well as the chief of the tribe. Intercourse with the whites for all these years, with visitors frequently stopping over for days at a time to study the interesting ways of the Zuni people, had brought this about. Besides, unless Adrian had been misinformed, the Witch Doctor had been away from his home in the desert on several occasions; and while his people believed he was at these times holding an extended audience with the Manitou, deep in the heart of the Sacred Mountain, Donald and Adrian, on talking it over, had come to the conclusion that the keen-witted old fraud may have been visiting civilization, to see for himself some of the wonderful things of which these white pilgrims had told the Zunis. “Stop!” said Adrian; and singularly enough they all came to a standstill, just forty feet or so on the other side of the lone tent; because there was something commanding in both the voice and gesture of the white boy. Besides, those two rifles looked more or less ready for business; and it is well known that firearms may be as dangerous in the hands of boys, as when grown men possess them. “Now, tell me what all this means, Pick-ne-quan-to?” called out Adrian, purposely making use of the Indian name by which the medicine man was known, and which doubtless had more or less to do with his strange calling as a magician. Thereupon the medicine man drew himself up, and restraining his anger as much as possible, he answered with great deliberation: “From the lodge of Pick-ne-quan-to has the wonderful Sacred Belt been taken. No Zuni would brave the wrath of Manitou by touching the gift of the Great Spirit. It has been said that one of the paleface boys was seen near by. I have come to demand that the Sacred Belt be restored again to my keeping. And if this is done the white boys shall be allowed to depart in peace; but before another night; for if they stay after darkness comes again even the power of Pick-ne-quan-to could not save them from the vengeance of the warriors, who would seek the blood of the foolish ones. I have spoken.” “But we did not take your Sacred Belt; and not one of us has ever been inside the lodge of Pick-ne-quan-to!” urged Adrian; who was trying to gain precious minutes of time, for as yet he could see no sign of Donald coming with the old chief to save the day. The medicine man shrugged his shoulders at this. Doubtless he fully expected to hear a flat denial; Braddon may even have hinted that the boys would vehemently declare they had never set eyes on the stolen article; but that a search of their belongings might bring it to light. “The white boy may say that, and yet how do we know he does not speak with a forked tongue, like the Little Father of the rattles? Will he let us enter his tent and see for ourselves?” the medicine man went on to say, doubtless following out a suggestion from Braddon, who hovered close to his elbow.