"No, it would be foolish," Red Dog told them. "We must stop here and rest the ponies."
The Cheyennes slid dejectedly from the ponies, and threw themselves upon the ground. They held the lariats, and watched indifferently while the ponies grazed. There was little talk. Their hearts were heavy. Their spirits were crushed. A splendid victory had ended in a bitter defeat. A number of their comrades had been killed. The Cheyennes felt subdued.
"Our brothers feel bad," Little Raven said, softly.
"Bad things have happened to them," declared Sun Bird.
White Otter made no comment. He, too, was serious and depressed. He had expected a war party of his people to come to the aid of the Cheyennes. He was at a loss to explain why they had failed to appear. Having assured the Cheyennes that the Ogalalas would help them, he feared that they might doubt the sincerity of his pledge. The thought troubled him. He felt sure that if his tribesmen had joined the war party, the Pawnees would have been beaten off.
"My people did not come," he told Sun Bird. "It is bad. I do not know what to make of it."
"Perhaps the Cheyennes took a long time to go to your village," said Sun Bird. "There were many women and children. They held back the warriors."
"Many suns have passed," White Otter reminded him.
They became silent. For a long time they sat watching the plain. White Otter looked hopefully toward the north. He knew that the Pawnees were two full days' travel from their village, and they would be forced to travel slowly with the great herd of ponies. If the Ogalalas should appear before the night passed he believed they might still overtake the Pawnees and recover the ponies. The possibility thrilled him. Then, as darkness finally came, the great hope died from his heart.
"My brothers, night has come," Red Dog told his warriors. "I do not believe the Pawnees will turn back to find us, but we must watch out. We are in the country of our enemies. I will ask some of you to ride out on the plain and watch."