He recalled the warning of Jack Dudley, and knew the ferocious hatred this vagrant redskin held toward him.

To appeal for mercy would delight the miscreant and not aid the prisoner.
He tried another tack.
"What do you want with me, Motoza ?" The question pleased the Sioux, who, partly lowering his rifle, still held it ready for instant use.

His ugly countenance was broken by the old grin.
"Huh! You call Motoza tief, eh ?" "That's what I called you, and that's what you are!" "Huh! Me kill you!" "_You_ can do that easily enough, but you'll never live to brag about it.

If the officers don't hang you, Hank Hazletine will make daylight shine through your hide! He is only waiting for an excuse." "White man dog--me not afraid--me kill _him_!" said the Sioux, with a dangerous glitter in his snake-like eyes.
"You can't do it too soon.

But what are you waiting for ?" Motoza had not counted upon such defiance; but if it lessened his contempt it did not diminish his hate nor weaken his purpose.
"You go; me follow; me point rifle if you run; if you call, me shoot!" "Which way do you wish me to travel ?" The Sioux pointed toward the bend in the valley for which Fred was making when checked in this peremptory manner.