“This is Old Blaze, father. Don’t you know him?” replied Fred, turning to the hunter.
“Yes. I have seen him once, and have often heard of him. But who are the others? Is that his squaw?”
“I believe not,” evasively replied Fred. “But where are you going, sir?” he asked, anxious to change the subject of conversation. “I should judge from your uniform, that you were on your way to pay a visit of ceremony.”
“You have guessed it. The Crows and the Arapahoes have been fighting for a long time, and have made it dangerous for travelers to cross the plains. It is my duty to try to patch up a peace between them. I have brought some of the principal men of the Crows, and we mean to pay a visit to the Arapahoes and have a big talk. You know the effect, in such proceedings, of an officer’s full dress uniform.”
Silverspur and Old Blaze looked at each other. If they could not get away from Colonel Wilder and his party, they must meet the enraged Arapahoes, who, as they could not doubt, were hot on their trail. It was an awkward dilemma for Fred Wilder, and it soon became still more awkward.
One of the Crow chiefs took Colonel Wilder aside, and conversed with him in a low tone. Dove-eye was the subject of their conversation, as they both glanced at her frequently, and the officer looked surprised and interested.
“Is there no mistake about this?” he asked, turning to Bad Eye. “I am told that that girl is an Arapaho, and that she has been fighting the Crows as a warrior.”
“It is true. She has been a warrior,” replied the chief, who was gazing intently at Dove-eye.
“It is very strange. What is she doing, my son, in your company?”