Silas Wormley was shrewd enough; but his heart and brain were so contracted, that his shrewdness was exercised only on a small scale, he suspected that Dove-eye’s confederate was a white man, and there were two circumstances that confirmed him in that suspicion. The Big Medicine, he was told, had spoken quite imperfectly the dialect used by the Arapahoes, and the lame excuse which he had given, although it had easily satisfied the credulous Indians, had another effect upon Silas Wormley. Again—why had he directed the Arapahoes to release Old Blaze, about whom he seemed to know so much? What was the hunter doing when he was captured near the village? For what purpose had he come there? The trader knew that white men on the plains, like snakes, are generally found in couples. When one is seen, there is another not far from him.
Putting this and that together, his natural shrewdness stimulated by his desire for money and for Dove-eye, the trader concluded that there must be a white man at the bottom of the mystery, and that the white man was concealed at the lodge of the Big Medicine, he determined to reconnoiter that position, and to make such discoveries as he could, with as little danger to himself as possible.
He set out, accordingly, at a late hour in the evening, and went direct to the lodge at the foot of the cliff. Finding no entrance except through the hut, he crept as near to it as he dared, for the purpose of peeping and listening.
His enterprise was rewarded. He heard two voices, one of which he recognized as Dove-eye’s, and the other was that of a man. Yes, it was a white man’s voice; there was no mistaking the tone and the accent. He could not hear what they were saying; but they laughed merrily every now and then, and he had no doubt that they were discussing the events of the morning.
He was about to creep up closer; but he heard Dove-eye, as she moved toward the entrance, say that she must return to the village, and he was obliged to hasten away and conceal himself.
He watched the girl until she was out of sight, and then decided that he would make a closer examination of the lodge, in order to satisfy himself who and what the white man was.
There was an obstacle in his way. As he emerged from his hiding place, he was confronted by a dark and stalwart form.
It was the negro, Jose. In one hand he held a stout stick, and in the other he carried a leather thong.