CHAPTER XXII
OUR TRADE WITH THE TONKAWAS
"We hold this ford," replied Tawannears in the same dialect, speaking with arrogant emphasis. The two conducted their conversation after the remarkable fashion of the Plains tribes, the basis of their speech being such Comanche phrases as they had in common, pieced out with Dakota, Pawnee, Arickara, Cheyenne and Siksika, and when they were at a loss for a common vocal ground of understanding reverting to the flexible sign-language, by which they never failed to convey the most complicated meanings.
Occasionally one of the leading Tonkawa warriors would intervene with a suggestion or a word if his chief seemed at a loss, but the debate was mainly a two-man affair.
"Who are you?" returned the Tonkawa haughtily, yet impressed by our swaggering manner.
"We are of no tribe," said Tawannears. "We are outlaws and fugitives. We ravage all whom we meet."
"Not the Tonkawa," commented the chief, with what on a civilized face I would have termed a grin of mild amusement.
"Yes, the Tonkawa, if they attempt to cross us," rejoined Tawannears.
"How many of the Taivo have you in your band?" inquired the Tonkawa, changing the subject.
"We have many," Tawannears lied easily. "This one you see with me is an In-glees. He is an exile from his people, a murderer. We have Franquis and Espanyas, Dakota and Shawnee, men of every tribe, including some from beyond the Sky Mountains. We have just raided a Comanche village and run off their herd."