"It is good," replied White Otter.
They waited impatiently for darkness to leave the plain. Dawn seemed a long time coming. However, the pale narrow streak across the eastern sky gradually widened, the stars grew dim, and a bird note sounded from the timber. Day was close at hand. The Sioux stirred restlessly. Their long vigil was almost over. Would they see the Blackfeet camp? they wondered. They longed to sweep aside the heavy black mantle which hid the plain. Then, after some moments of trying suspense, they saw the night shadows slowly retreating. The stars had disappeared. A soft gray twilight was creeping out of the east. Like a great hand, it spread slowly over the plain and wiped away the darkness. Dim, shadowy shapes appeared in its wake. It passed over the ridge and drove the shadows into the north. The Sioux followed it with eager eyes. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it extended across the plain and laid bare the secrets of the night.
"Look, look, there are the lodges!" Sun Bird cried, eagerly.
They seemed suddenly to have sprung from the plain—like pale, ghostly phantoms on the trail of dawn. One after the other, they appeared from the gloom in great sweeping circles that extended far out on the plain until the entire camp was exposed before the fascinated eyes of the Sioux. It was ideally situated beside the waters of a wide, willow-lined stream. The Sioux marveled at its size. For a long time they studied it in silence. Trained from infancy in the art of observation, they noted every detail. They counted the lodges, estimated the number of persons each would accommodate, determined the nearest and easiest approach to the camp, noted the distance from the ridge, the distance from the water, and many other details which skillful scouts were expected to know.
Then they turned their attention to the ponies. There was a great herd of them grazing some distance to the eastward of the lodges. The Sioux watched them with covetous eyes. They knew that many of those animals had come from the Minneconjoux camp. They intended to take them back, and many Blackfeet ponies besides. Near the edge of the camp was a smaller herd of ponies confined in a strong pole corral. The Sioux knew that those were the more valuable animals, the fleet-footed war and hunting ponies. White Otter studied them with great interest. He was trying to identify the famous black war pony of Many Buffaloes, the Blackfeet chief. However, he was unable to convince himself that any of the ponies in the corral was that animal. He had little doubt that it was securely guarded somewhere near the lodge of the chief.
"There are many lodges," Sun Bird said, finally.
"Yes, it is a great camp," replied White Otter.
The Blackfeet were beginning to stir. The Sioux saw them moving about between the lodges. They looked like dwarfs at the distance. Then smoke began to rise above the camp. Some people were running toward the river. The Sioux believed they were boys. The splashes were distinctly visible as they threw themselves into the water. The faint, far-away sound of their voices came up from the plain. Then a shadow swept across the ledge. The Sioux looked into the sky. Huya, the great war bird, was soaring out over the Blackfeet camp.
"Hi, there is our brother, Huya!" said Sun Bird. "He has come to bring our people to the Blackfeet camp."
"It is a good sign," declared White Otter.