"Honor?" and she started as if serpent-stung.
"Ay, honor," he replied, knowing full well that the word would reach her heart more painfully than a knife would have done. "The words of the pale-face are ever false. They whisper lies into the ears of the red-men—they trail them on to shame, and when they are asked for the father of their children they can only bow their heads into the dust."
"Burning Cloud is the daughter of a great chief," she answered, drawing herself up proudly. "He who couples her name with disgrace must beware!" and she half-drew her knife.
He knew as well as she did her pride of birth, and was determined to sting her upon the most tender point.
"The daughter of a chief when she stoops to love an enemy is worse than any other."
"Who says I have done so?"
"The whole tribe."
"Then some serpent has hissed the venom in their but too willing ears."
"It is the scout, Beaver Tail, though he stole the name like a thieving dog, that she loves."
"Well?"