This statement created the sensation Tawannears intended it should—for two reasons: the Comanches were enemies no tribe despised, and the suggestion of unusual wealth in horseflesh appealed to the special needs of the Tonkawa.
"That is well," answered the chief, with an evil smirk. "We need horses. We will come over, and take yours."
Tawannears laughed.
"Come, Tonkawas," he invited. "My young men are waiting for you behind the trees. They will shoot you down in the water, and those who reach the land will be fresh meat for the axes of our women."
"You lie," said the Tonkawa. "You are not so many as we."
"There are thirty warriors behind those trees," asserted Tawannears. "How many of you would die before you had their scalps—or before they fled?"
"We need horses," reiterated the chief. "We are not afraid to die. We are warriors. We are Tonkawa."
A murmur of savage approval, like the growl of a wolf-pack, answered him from his men.
"That is good hearing," said Tawannears lightly. "But the Tonkawa do not think straight. There is a cloud over their eyes. They say their medicine is weak."
"Why?"