"Lone Bear runs like the wild buck," was the remark of one of the warriors, though the observation itself did not amount to much, nor could the one to whom it was addressed see why it should be made at all. He, therefore, remained silent, feeling as though he would like to rub some of the bruised portions of his body, but too dignified to do so.
"If the wolf or buffalo crosses the path of Lone Bear, he does not turn aside."
"No; he runs over him."
"Even though he be a warrior, Lone Bear goes over him, as though he were not there."
The party of the third part began to see the drift of these comments, and he glared as though debating which one to slay first.
"Lone Bear has a kind heart; it is like that of the squaw that presses her pappoose to her heart."
"He is kinder than the squaw, for he lies still and lets the Shawanoe rest his weary foot on his head."
Lone Bear glowered from one to the other, as they spoke in turn, and kept his hand on his knife at his girdle, as if to warn them they were going too far. They seemed to hold him in little fear, however, and continued their mock sympathy. One walked to where the tomahawk had lain untouched since it left the hand of the Pawnee, and, picking it up, examined it with much care.
"There is no blood on it," he remarked, as if talking to himself, but making sure he spoke loud enough for the other to hear; "we were mistaken when we thought it went through the body of the Shawanoe; the hand of Lone Bear trembles like that of an old man, and he can not drive his tomahawk into the tree which he reaches with his hand."
The black eyes of the Pawnees sparkled, and they seemed on the point several times of breaking into laughter, but managed to restrain themselves.