"That was the work of the young men, and they are now sorry for it," said the medicine man.
Ted looked at the young fellow whom he had unhorsed, and saw that his face was distended in a sarcastic smile.
"The young brave yonder is the one who led the raid on my corral. He does not look sorry," said Ted, pointing to the offender.
Flying Sun threw a glance in the direction of the young man, and said a few words sharply in the Blackfeet tongue.
"Crazy Cow is young and the son of a chief. His blood is hot within him, and he does not know what he does," said Flying Sun.
Crazy Cow's face at once assumed a look of sadness.
"I have not come for war," said Ted gravely, "but I want to warn you and your tribe that I will not stand for any raids on our ranch. You will find that we are good fighters, and that we can kill just as well as the soldiers. The ranch is ours, and the cattle and horses are ours, and do not belong to the young men of your tribe. They must leave us alone, or we will be compelled to deal out justice to them in our own way, which is a hard one."
"Very well, my brother," said the wily old chief. "We desire to live in peace with our white brothers. Your cattle and horses shall be sacred to our young men."
"I mean this," said Ted, looking at the old man severely. "Keep your young men away from our ranch, or they will be killed."
At this Crazy Cow drew himself up to his full height, and looked at Ted with scorn.