"White papoose where go?" asked the Indian, showing a row of sharpened
teeth.
"Hunt coyote," replied Dick, in a voice that trembled.
"Heap fool. No catch coyote," said the Indian, reaching over and lifting
Dick's Remington from the saddle.
He sighted it, turned it around in his hand, and then coolly slung it
over his shoulder.
"Here, give that to me," said Dick sturdily. With this act of theft all
his courage came back to him. No dirty Indian should have the rifle
Stella had given him.
But the Indian only grinned.
"Me heap brave," said the Indian. "Me Pokopokowo."
He looked at Dick as if he expected the boy to be deeply impressed.
"I don't care who you are. I want my rifle," cried Dick.
"Papoose heap fool. Get off pony." The Indian was scowling now, and
looked very ferocious, and once more Dick's courage oozed. The Indian
did not seem to be a bit frightened.
As Dick was slow in descending from the saddle, the Indian grasped him
by the arm and jerked him to the ground.
Dick was as angry as he ever got, but was sensible enough to know that
he could not fight the Indian, and that all he could do was to escape as
rapidly as possible.
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