"Because Hay-uta fears not to go everywhere alone; from the ridge-pole of his wigwam flutter the scalps of the Shawanoes, the Hurons, the Foxes, the Osages, and the strange red man whom he has met and slain in the forest."
The old nature in Deerfoot prompted him to take this vaunting warrior to task. The answer of the Sauk was indefinite, but the youth could wait a few minutes for the information he sought.
"Hay-uta, the Man-Who-Runs-Without-Falling, has not taken the scalp of Deerfoot, and cannot do so!"
The flash of the eye which accompanied these words added to their force. Before they could receive reply the youth added:
"Hay-uta is a brave man when he talks to squaws; less than twenty great suns have passed over the head of Deerfoot, but he is not afraid of the Man-Who-Runs-Without-Falling."
Indian nature is quick to resent such taunts, and beyond a doubt the hot blood flushed the skin beneath the paint. Deerfoot noted the glitter of the eye, and a twitch of the muscles of the arm whose hand rested on the knife, as he made answer:
"The Shawanoe is a dog that crept up behind the Sauk, without giving him warning; the rattlesnake speaks, but the Shawanoe does not."
Deerfoot was angered by these words because they were untrue.
"The Shawanoe was walking through the wood, when the Great Spirit whispered, 'Take care; a snake is crawling through the grass; he is called Hay-uta; he will strike his fangs through the moccasin of Deerfoot, unless he crushes him with his heel; Hay-uta was not brave, because he hid behind a tree, and he pointed his gun through the bushes, meaning to shoot the Shawanoe before he could chant a word of his death-song.'"
This charge was an exasperating one, and instantly raised the anger of the warrior to white heat.