Rusty began to breathe easier. But it was one thing for them to accept Andy. He was a blood brother. Rusty was a blood enemy.

The conference continued awhile, then Andy turned and rode back toward Rusty. His face was grim. Rusty’s hopes sagged.

Andy regarded him a moment before he spoke. “I tell them what you do for me. They say they don’t kill you yet. They want council first.”

“What would you give for my chances?”

“Tonkawa Killer is very bad man. He wants to kill you now. Others say wait, talk to my brother. My brother will help.”

“I take it your brother’s not here, but Tonkawa Killer is.”

“My brother hunts. Will be in camp tonight.”

Rusty weighed his options and found them dismal. If he broke and ran he would be lucky to get two hundred yards. To fire into that bunch would amount to the same quick suicide.

“I’ll go along, I guess.”

“Give me rifle so they know you don’t fight.”

“The minute I turn loose of this rifle, I’m helpless.”

“You helpless now.” Andy reached out. Grudgingly Rusty handed him the weapon.

“You were right, Andy. I ought to’ve turned back yesterday. But I just couldn’t.”

“Not be scared. My brother fix.”

Don’t be scared. Easy to say for somebody who had never had to ride into a bunch of Comanche warriors with kill in their eyes. Rusty’s skin crawled as if worms burrowed under it. The warriors quickly closed around him. He picked out one who appeared the most hostile and looked directly into his black and glittering eyes, trying to stare him down. It did not work.

Andy said, “That one is called Tonkawa Killer. Always he hates me. Calls me Texan boy. Wants me dead.”

“Damned sure wants me dead. Look at him.”

“When I break my leg, Tonkawa Killer there. Says it is good I die. Hit me with war club.”

“He don’t look happy to see you back.”

“Afraid of my brother. He thinks I tell.”

“You’re goin’ to, aren’t you?”

“First I hear him talk. Then maybe I tell.”

The Comanches conferred among themselves. Andy listened without comment. When the conference broke up, four of the warriors left the others and came to Rusty. They pointed northward and motioned for him to get on his horse.

Andy said, “The others go hunt some more. These take us to camp. Wait for my brother.”

Rusty noted darkly that Tonkawa Killer was one of the four. “He looks like he might change his mind and kill both of us.”

“Too afraid of my brother.”

“Your brother must be a curly wolf.”

Andy did not know the term. “No, his name means Steals the Ponies.”

The warriors did not tie Rusty’s hands. In their place, he thought, he might have done so. On the other hand, there would be no point in his trying to run. Where could he go? They would kill him in a minute.

He had been in enough Indian fights that the thought of another held no terrors, but never had he found himself trapped and helpless like this.