Dragons Teeth Crichton 2017 (WWT)

How can you believe the words of an enemy?
The discussion dragged on, hour after hour. At length, to control his temper or perhaps his nerves,
Cope began to sketch. He drew the chief, and the likeness aroused great interest. The chief wanted the
sketch, and Cope gave it to him. The chief wanted Cope’s pen. Cope refused.
“Professor,” Sternberg said, “I think you’d better give him your pen.”
“I will do nothing of the sort.”
“Professor . . .”
“Very well.” Cope handed over the pen.
Shortly before dawn, the discussion turned from Cope to Toad. Some kind of new chief was called
for, a very pale, very thin man with a wild look in his eyes. His name was White Deer. White Deer
looked at Toad, and muttered something, and left.
The Indians then announced they wanted Toad to remain in the camp, and for the others to leave.
Cope refused.
“It’s all right,” Toad said. “I will serve as a kind of hostage.”
“They may kill you.”
“But if they kill me,” Toad pointed out, “they’ll almost certainly kill all of you soon after.”
In the end, Toad remained, and the others left.
From their camp, they looked down on the Indian encampment as dawn broke. The braves had begun
whooping and riding in circles; a large fire was being built.
“Poor Toad,” Isaac said. “They’ll torture him for sure.”
Cope watched through his glass, but the smoke obscured everything. Now a chanting began; it kept
up until nine in the morning, when it abruptly stopped.
A party of braves rode up to the camp, bringing Toad with them on a spare horse. They came upon
Cope washing his false teeth in a tin bowl. The Indians were entranced and, before Toad dismounted,
insisted that Cope pop his lifelike teeth in and then take them out again.
Cope did this several times, contrasting a dazzling smile with a gaping, toothless hole, and the
Indians departed much entertained.
Dazed, Toad watched them go.
“That one chief, White Deer, did magic on my hand,” he said, “to cure it.”
“Did it hurt?”
“No, they just waved feathers over it and chanted. But I had to eat some awful stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“I don’t know, but it was awful. I’m very tired now.” He curled up beneath the wagon, and slept for
the next twelve hours.
Toad’s arm was improved the following morning. In three days he was cured. Each morning, the
Indians would ride up to see Cope. And they would watch Funny Tooth wash his teeth. The Indians
would often hang around the camp, but they never took anything. And they were very interested in
what the whites were doing: finding bones.