CHAPTER XIII
THE PRICE OF A ROBE
Thunder-maker did not move while the strangers were watching him. To all outward appearance he was asleep.
Holden stepped forward and shook the Medicine Man roughly by the shoulder.
"Come along! Open your eyes, you old scoundrel. You are no more sleeping than we are," he said.
The Indian moved, slowly opened his eyes, and looked for a few moments at the speaker, just as a person would who had been suddenly roused from a deep slumber. Then a pleased smile broke over his face.
"My white brothers in the tent of Thunder-maker? They are very welcome," he said.
But Holden did not respond to the greeting, as he demanded—
"Does Thunder-maker think that we are fools? Do you think we did not hear you piping to those vile serpents of yours?"
The Indian looked puzzled.