“The chief has said,” responded the Indian, with savage dignity.
“If my brother is hungry, come to the fort and eat,” said Dave.
“My brother is good; the blue-coats have fed the Sioux chief; his hunger is gone.”
“Will you return to your people now?” questioned the guide.
“As fast as the crow flies to his nest; his braves mourn him as dead and gone to the happy hunting-grounds, but the scalp of the Sioux chief will never hang in the smoke of a Mandan lodge,” and the savage drew his tall form up proudly. Then, bending his eyes on the train, he asked: “Does my white brother hunt with the white wigwams, that go to the setting sun?” and with his eyes he indicated the emigrant-wagons as he spoke.
“Yes, I am their guide,” answered Dave.
“And the tall chief, who wears the hide of the coyote,” indicating Abe, who was in conversation with the corporal, as he spoke, “does he hunt with my brother?”
“Yes; we are the chiefs of the train,” said Dave, wondering at the curiosity of the Indian.
“What is my tall white brother called?” asked the red-skin, pointing to Abe.
“Abe Colt.”