As there seemed to be no other way of learning its identity, they dismissed the arrow from their minds and turned their attention upon the dead pony. It was a pinto, and appeared to have been dead a number of days. They had little doubt that, having been wounded on the plain, it had followed the game trail to the spot where it died.
"Perhaps the man who owned that pony rode up here to get away from his enemies," suggested Sun Bird.
"Perhaps," said White Otter.
Then, as the day had almost ended, they realized that if they intended to remain and watch for Matohota it was time to find a hiding place. As there was not sufficient breeze to stir the leaves, White Otter held a moistened finger above his head to learn the direction of the air current. What there was seemed to come from the north side of the park. As the bear was expected to approach from the west, and the bait was on the east side of the park, the Sioux decided to hide themselves to the southward of the dead pony. Then if the uncertain breeze should suddenly shift to another quarter they would still be to the leeward of the bear.
"Matohota is strong," cautioned White Otter. "We must drive our arrows deep into his body. We must not go too far away."
They concealed themselves in the undergrowth within easy bowshot of the bait and determined to watch until the bear appeared. The light was already fading from the park, and the heavy evening shadows were forming at the edge of the woods. Then, as darkness settled down, the moon flooded the little park with its silvery light.
"It is good," whispered Sun Bird. "Wakantunka has sent Hanyetuwi, the night sun, to give us light."
"It is good," replied White Otter.
They had little hope that Matohota would appear before daylight, and still they realized that he might come to feed under cover of the night. It was not long, however, before they heard other prowlers approaching the bait. The crackling of brush, and soft, stealthy footfalls caused them to watch expectantly. A lithe, shadowy form moved swiftly into the moonlight. It stopped a moment and raised a long pointed snout into the air. Then it trotted gracefully to the bait. The Sioux recognized it as Huhasapedan, the fox. They watched with great interest as the suspicious creature circled warily about the carcass, stopping in alarm at the slightest sound, and peering nervously into the shadows. It had barely begun to eat, when a second woods prowler entered the park and moved slowly toward the bait. The fox crouched behind the pony and watched uneasily.
"Wolf," whispered White Otter.