“I think it is,” affirmed Archambeau. “Sioux an’ ’Rapahoe together mek it bad; eh?”
The conference soon dissolved, and with one of the Indians Kit loped back to the willows; Godey remained, amicably squatting and talking with the other.
“They’re ’Rapahoes, an’ some Sioux,” explained Kit. “This hyar’s an old Sioux chief, who wants to meet our head chief.”
The old Sioux—a grizzled, stout, but fine-looking veteran, wearing a necklace of grizzly-bear claws—shook hands warmly with the lieutenant, and delivered a harangue. Kit translated.
“He says he’s always been friendly to the whites. ’Fore that gang started from the village they held a council, an’ most of ’em voted to attack us, ’cause we’d been with the Utes, an’ like as not had sold ’em guns an’ ammunition. But the Sioux, an’ a few ’Rapahoes who’d seen us last year on the plains, an’ knew about us, voted ag’in it. He says the Sioux air pore, an’ ought to be given a lot o’ valuable presents for the way they voted. I expect the ’Rapahoes’ll want as much.”
“I suppose so,” groaned the lieutenant. “No matter how they voted, they’ll want the presents.”
Therefore presents were liberally distributed, under the folds of the Flag, gently waving, perhaps for the first time, here beside the Grand River in north central Colorado.
Through Middle Park the trail continued, and so did the evidences of the Arapahoes. At the south end of the park six beaver trappers were met. They informed the lieutenant that two of their party already had been killed by the Arapahoes, and that if he would wait they would like to pack up and get out. He sent Kit and Archambeau and Godey with them, to help.
When the squad again joined the command, they brought alarming news. Near the trapper camp they had suddenly been stayed by a band of Arapahoes, much excited. The Arapahoes said that their people were about to make a great attack upon the Utes, in the Bayou Salade (which as South Park lies adjacent to Middle Park, on the south), and that they had been sent to guide the white men back that they might help the Arapahoes kill the Utahs! Kit had answered that the white men were far ahead, and would join them in the Bayou Salade. Whereupon the Arapahoe scouts rode off to their people. Kit chuckled.
“We’ll have to take care an’ not meet ’em. They’ve got us in a tight corner. Back yonder on the river we swore we war the ’Rapahoe’s friend, an’ had nothing to do with the Ute nation. Now if we won’t help our friends fight, what air we? An’ if we do help ’em fight, whar’ll we be, with the Utes.”