“Do all the Indians want the war?” asked Barker, as he hurriedly dressed himself for flight.
“No,” said Black Buffalo. “Many of us, Little Paul, John Other Day, myself, and many others think this war is foolish and will only bring tears and mourning to our women and children, and ruin to our whole people, but we are powerless to stop the madness of Little Crow and the young men.”
“I have an extra saddle-horse,” said Barker as he was ready to mount. “We must warn Bill and Tim.”
“You are right, Mehunka; I have brought an extra horse. The white boys should come with us, if they are willing.”
“They must come with us!” exclaimed Barker, “whether they will or not.”
“Perhaps the lanky white man will not let them,” Black Buffalo suggested. “He wishes to keep the boys here. I do not know why. He would not mourn if harm came to them. He does not love them.”
“Lanky Hicks be cursed!” Barker exclaimed in Sioux. “I shall point my rifle at his head, if he refuses to let them go; he should have taken them home long ago.”
Bill and Tim were just eating their simple breakfast of wild rice and maple syrup when they saw two horsemen coming at a gallop.
“Look, Bill,” cried Tim, “here comes Mr. Barker and Tatanka! Hurrah! We’ll go and hunt ducks on the slough to-day. It’s so long since they have visited us.”
But when Barker hastily jumped off his horse and entered the cabin before the lads could cry, “Come in,” to his knock, they knew that their two friends had not come to invite them to go hunting.