“I have come here for the purpose of having an understanding with you. I want to know what crooked purpose has brought you to this place.”
“Don’t be angry, my young friend. It will be to your interest to keep on the right side of me, and I am sure that you will gain nothing by flying into a passion. I don’t know why you should impute crooked purposes to me.”
“I supposed, from the way you spoke about Miss Robinette, that she was safe at the rendezvous.”
“I don’t know how she should have got there. I supposed, from your manner of speaking, that she was safe here, among the Crows; but the old chief tells me that she has not been here. He says that none of his people have ever attacked any party of white men, and that no white scalps have been brought into the village.”
“Did he tell you nothing more?” asked Benning, as the Scotchman paused.
“He said that he had learned that they were Blackfeet who made the attack upon our camp, and that he had no doubt that Miss Flora had been carried off by them.”
“Was that all?”
“That was all. I am afraid that the old rascal has been lying to me. Can you tell me whether he spoke the truth?”
“I suppose he did,” replied Benning, wondering at the reticence of Bad Eye. “He ought to know whether his own people are clear.”
“He may know, but may be unwilling to speak the truth. Come, Benning; I am convinced that you know more about this matter than you are ready to tell. We are in the same boat, and you will lose nothing by rowing with me. Do you know any thing about Miss Flora?”