Tawannears smiled.
"If we can steal horses in Winter, surely we can travel west," he said. "It will be as cold going south as going toward the Sky Mountains."
"But Tawannears does not understand that the Sky Mountains contain more dangers than cold," returned the Teton chief. "The spirit beasts of the Underworld roam their defiles. They are the dwelling-place of the Powers of Evil."
"Tawannears doubts it not," agreed our comrade. "But we expected such perils before we left the Long House. Tawannears and his white brothers will journey through the country of Hanegoategeh, if need be."
Nadoweiswe tried again.
"Stay, and you shall have half the horses we steal," he offered, "and in the Spring I will go west with you, I and my young men."
"It cannot be," said Tawannears. "Our hearts will be sore at parting with Nadoweiswe and Chatanskah and all their people. But we must go."
The Teton gave it up.
"Tawannears and his white brothers walk to their deaths," he said sententiously. "The spirit beasts will devour them. Hai, it is a pity! But we will tell your story in the Winter Count. You shall be remembered."
And 'tis a fact that the old chief parted from us in the morning with as sincere evidence of regret as an Indian could show. He pressed upon us all the dried meat we could carry, together with three pairs of snowshoes and a new and more powerful bow and quiver of arrows for Tawannears to use in hunting game, thus making it possible for us to save our precious store of ammunition for self-defense; and he and all his warriors escorted us to the edge of the village. Nor must I leave out Chatanskah and our Wahpeton friends, whose demonstrations of affection were equally touching—if for no other reason than because of their stoical suppression of all signs of emotion.