“Won’t the Indians see the fire!” asked Tim.
“Not this fire,” Bill told him. “Don’t you see that Tatanka breaks from the trees only the driest sticks that don’t make a bit of smoke!”
Tim and Meetcha were very hungry and Meetcha crept, with quivering nostrils very close to the hot slices of meat, which the Indian was laying down on some oak leaves, but Tatanka struck him a sharp blow with a switch and called, “Raus!” in a loud gruff voice, so the little raccoon scrambled away in a great hurry.
“What did he say!” asked the boys. “He talked German to Meetcha,” Barker laughed. “He learned it from his neighbors. It means, ‘Get out.’”
“Meetcha must learn not to steal,” said Tatanka, with a smile. “He is a little thief. Tim should let him run in the woods. He will make much trouble.”
The four travelers enjoyed a hearty breakfast after their morning ride.
“Boys,” remarked the trapper, “if we eat at this rate, we shall live on the smell of hambone to-morrow, unless we make Shakopee tonight.”
There were no dishes to wash and Meetcha had to eat the scraps without washing them, although to the delight of both men and boys, he went through the motions with every piece he ate.
When the meal was over, Tatanka sat for a while and smoked in silence, while Barker and the boys scanned the prairie from the margin of the grove.
A mile to the south some dark objects were moving in the direction of the wooded knoll, but they could not tell what they were. The boys thought they saw Indians on horseback, but as Barker did not agree with them they called Black Buffalo. After he had looked a minute he said: