Kachina remarked with interest—
"Another white man!"
And Awa was as dumfounded as ourselves. He shouted a question, and a knot of gorgeously-decorated chiefs and medicine-men detached themselves from the front rank of the onlookers and clustered about his horse, pointing at us, their eyes fairly popping from their heads. Evidently, they, too, were surprised—and that was not strange, for 'twas seldom these wild horsemen of the plains saw three white men at once, or so I reasoned.
"The Great Spirit's ways are difficult to follow," commented Tawannears. "He has carried us again along Black Robe's trail."
"Awa will see in his capture an excuse for daring to disregard my Orenda," I said pessimistically.
"Nein, nein," squeaked Corlaer. "All is not well wit' der Pawnee. See how dey boggle andt chaw togedder."
'Twas so. Awa's face was a mingling of baffled rage, hysterical superstition and credulous awe. His gaze shifted rapidly from us to the figure of Black Robe, eyes still closed, lips murmuring in silent prayer. The medicine-men and chiefs who had swarmed up to the war-chief were staring at us with expressions akin to fear. Awa suddenly spat out an ejaculation, and pushed his horse beside us. We four were now the focal object of the crowd's attention.
"Whence did you say you have come?" he demanded of Tawannears in the polyglot trade dialect.
"From beyond the setting sun," Tawannears replied gravely. "I have been to the Land of Lost Souls, and there I found this maiden who loved me once before on earth and is come back with me to reënter my lodge."
"But this Taivo, this white man?" Awa leveled his finger at me.