"What ails you now?" asked the stockman, coming out of the tent.

"They've got an old Indian in tow, as sure as you live!" cried Bluff.

"Where is he? I've just been wanting to get an Indian picture the worst
way. Show him to me, please!" And Will came crawling hastily forth, of
course clutching his beloved camera in his hand.

"H'm! I guess I know that old buck. It's Running Elk, the chief of the
Crees. Something must have happened out of the usual order," said the
ranchman.

When he learned what Frank had to say Mr. Mabie proved himself just such
a man as the others had believed him to be. He advanced to the Indian,
who was standing there in stoical silence, with his blanket thrown over
his shoulder, and held out his hand.

"I'm glad to meet you again, Running Elk, and sorry to hear about your
trouble. But it will soon be all right. I'll see to it that the
authorities learn about Pierre, and they'll get him before long. In the
meantime, I'm going to give you a letter to my foreman. You take your
little party to the ranch, and they'll see to it that you have plenty to
eat until I come back home," he said.

The chief shook his head sadly.

"Bad! bad! Young braves no think when kill runaway steers. Never more
can happen after this. Send skins to pay when get um. Glad get meat for
squaw and pappoose."