"He will listen—if the complaint is a just one. The trouble is, the Indians will not obey Colonel Fairfield's orders."
"And why should they obey the white man? Is not White Ox their chief?"
"That is true. But the land is now the white man's, and the Indians must obey the Great Father at Washington, or in the end it will go hard with them."
"Not so!" cried Red Wolf savagely. "In the end the white man will be driven eastward, where he belongs. No one shall rule in these mountains but the red man. White Ox and the other great chiefs have spoken."
"What! you are going on the warpath?"
"The hatchet may be dug up, if the white man will not listen to the red man."
"I know what the trouble is, Red Wolf. Matt Gilroy and that scoundrelly half-breed, Mose, have set you up to this. They have filled your ears with false stories about our cruelty and about much money at the fort."
By the look on the Indian's face the young officer saw that he had struck the truth, at least in part.
But the red man would talk no more, fearing he had already said too much, and he stalked off, warning a guard to be careful and not let the captain escape.
When left to himself, Captain Moore's reflections were very bitter.