The sounds convinced him that the strangers were assembled at the pool in the center of the grove. He feared, however, that sharp-eared sentinels might be lurking at the edge of the plain. Aware that the slightest sound might betray him, he sank close to the earth and crept forward as cautiously as a panther stalking its prey. It took many moments to go a bow length. He had stopped behind a dense cluster of bushes close to the edge of the timber, when he was startled by the sound of voices within several bow lengths of him. He believed he had encountered the sentinels. Scarcely daring to breathe, he pressed his body against the plain and listened. The words of the speakers came distinctly to his ears. He failed to recognize them. They were not the words of the Pawnees. They did not sound like the words of the Crows. The dialect seemed strange and unfamiliar. For some moments White Otter was confused. He wondered if his ears were deceiving him. Then he suddenly identified the peculiar accent. Several years before he had heard it in the Kiowa camp. The mystery was solved. The people in the grove were Kiowas.
Having learned the identity of his foes, White Otter was equally eager to know if it was a war party or only a company of hunters. He saw little chance of gaining the information. Unable to see the warriors or to understand their words, there seemed no way to guess the intentions of the Kiowas. In the meantime the night was slipping by. Daylight was not far off. White Otter knew that it would be perilous to loiter. Nevertheless he waited, each moment hoping to hear something which might tell him whether the Kiowas were out for peace or war. At last he was rewarded. He heard sounds in the timber which convinced him that the Kiowas were dancing, and singing their war songs. The scouts at the edge of the grove had joined in the chant, and White Otter seized the opportunity to retreat.
Raising himself from the ground, he crawled slowly backward until he had gone a bow length. Then he stopped to listen. The sounds still came from the grove, but he heard nothing from the sentinels. Their silence aroused his fears. Alarming possibilities suggested themselves. Were the Kiowa sentinels listening? Had he betrayed himself? He sank to the plain and waited. The moments seemed endless. The uncertainty tried his courage. He was tempted to spring to his feet, and dash wildly across the plain. He realized that the Kiowas would soon overtake him. Then he heard the sentinels talking and making their way into the grove. They had abandoned their vigil. His heart filled with joy. He had accomplished his mission. The way was open. He was free to go.
The eastern sky was already turning gray when White Otter finally approached the spot where he had left Sun Bird and Little Raven. He stopped and imitated the bark of the little gray fox. Three times he gave the signal. Then he listened for an answer. A familiar voice sounded softly through the darkness.
"The way is clear," said Sun Bird.
A moment afterward White Otter joined him at the top of the ravine. They descended into the gully to join Little Raven.
"Well, my brothers, I have found out about those people," White Otter told his companions. "They are Kiowas. I believe it is a war party."
"How did you find out about it?" inquired Little Raven.
"I went ahead until I got close to those trees," said White Otter. "Then I crawled up behind some bushes. Then I heard some one talking. I did not know the words. Pretty soon I found out about it. It sounded like the Kiowas. I waited a long time. Then I heard those people dancing and singing. Then I said: 'It is a war party.' That is all I know about it."
"Well, pretty soon it will be light," Sun Bird told him. "Then we will find out what the Kiowas propose to do."