Harding was a respecter of law and social conventions; but now, under heavy stress, he had suddenly become primitive.
They approached the only remaining tepee.

The tension on Harding's nerves grew severe.

As the Indian, holding tightly to their prisoner's arm, picked his way noiselessly past the open flap, Clarke made a queer noise--half cough, half sneeze--very low, but loud enough to be heard by any one in the tent.

Like a flash, Harding threw up his pistol, ready for use.

As he did so, his foot tripped on a broken bottle lying in front of the dark entrance.