How this strain of argument might have progressed it is hard to say, but it was cut short by a cry like that of a wild beast, as Thunder-maker sprang through the crowd, dressed in all the hideous regalia of his profession.
"Dogs!" he cried furiously. "Do the pale-faces come to insult the great chief of Dacotahs and say that the fiery totem lie? Ugh! Spit upon them, Mighty Hand! Chase these dogs from the camp!"
Mackintosh had resumed his temper by now, and he turned to greet the newcomer with a look of feigned amusement.
"Who's this?" he asked pleasantly. "Is it a monkey that Mighty Hand has caught to please him, or is it maybe a little dancing-bear tricked out in feathers for the braves and warriors to laugh at?"
Thunder-maker well understood the jibe, and he flung himself about with passion.
"Ma conscience! Don't go making all that noise," was the quiet reproof. "And if you'll take my advice, you'll go home and put on warmer clothes. You've little enough on to keep you cosy when the wind blows chill."
Poor Thunder-maker! He had never been treated with such scant respect. Even the young papooses were putting "tongue in cheek" towards him, and some of the women could be seen pointing their fingers at his discomfited self.
Blind with passion the Indian threw himself upon the Scotsman. Instantly the boys had their guns ready to protect their friend. But the next moment they could not have pulled a trigger if it had been necessary to save their lives thereby, for they and the whole concourse of Indians were shaking themselves with laughter at what was taking place.
What was it?
Well, merely that Thunder-maker had not reckoned with the enormous strength that was latent in the Scotsman, nor the peculiar sense of his humour; for, no sooner had the Indian charged, than he found himself gripped by powerful hands, turned face downwards on a bent knee, and smacked in good old homely style of punishment, which the medicine man's scanty attire rendered exceedingly suitable.