“My son and the son of my enemy will come to your camp in one moon. You will marry the Rosebud, your daughter, to my son, while the son of my enemy you will tie an’ give to your young men to shoot at with their arrows until he be dead, an’ afterward until they have had enough sport. My son will bring you a white arrow; the son of my enemy will bring you a black arrow.” Moh-Kwa laughed when he heard this from the Widow’s lips; an’ because she had been faithful, Moh-Kwa gave her the four small owls just from the egg. An’ the older owls took it quietly an’ only whispered their anger; for Moh-Kwa said that if they screamed an’ shouted when now he must sit an’ think until his head ached, he would knock down every nest.
When his plan was ripe, Coldheart put on a good face an’ went to the lodge of Openhand an’ gave him a red blanket an’ said he was Openhand’s friend. An’ Openhand an’ all the Sioux said this must be true talk because of the red blanket; for Coldheart was never known to give anything away before.
Openhand an’ Coldheart sat down an’ smoked; for Moh-Kwa had never told how Coldheart had sent the Lynx for the Young Wolf’s heart. Moh-Kwa never told tales; moreover Moh-Kwa had also his own plans as well as Coldheart.
When Openhand an’ Coldheart came to part, an’ Coldheart was to go again to his own lodge, he asked that Openhand send his son, Young Wolf, with the Blackbird who would go to wed the young squaw, Rosebud, where she dwelt with Dull Knife, her father, in their camp on the Little Bighorn. An’ Openhand did not hesitate, but said, “Yes;” an’ the Young Wolf himself was glad to go, like all boys who hope to see new scenes.
As Young Wolf an’ the Blackbird next day rode away, Coldheart stuck a black arrow in the cow-skin quiver of Young Wolf, an’ a white arrow in that of the Blackbird, saying:
“Give these to the Dull Knife that he may know you are my sons an’ come from me, an’ treat you with much love.”
Many days the young men traveled to reach Dull Knife’s camp on the Little Bighorn. In the night of their last camp, Moh-Kwa came silently, an’ while the young men slept swapped Coldheart’s arrows; an’ when they rode to the lodge of Dull Knife, an’ while the scowling Blackfeet gathered about—for the sight of a Sioux gives a Blackfoot a hot heart—the black arrow was in the quiver of the Blackbird an’ the white arrow in that of Young Wolf.
“How!” said the young men to Dull Knife. “How! how!” said Dull Knife. “An’ now, my sons, where are the arrows which are your countersigns?”
When the young men took out the arrows they saw that they had been changed; but they knew not their message an’ thought no difference would come. So they made no talk since that would lose time; an’ Young Wolf gave Dull Knife the white arrow while the Blackbird gave him the black arrow.
An’ holding an arrow in each hand—one white, one black—Dull Knife said: