"No, I cannot sleep," Running Crow told him. "My heart is heavy. I am thinking about my people. I am thinking about my friends who were killed by the Kiowas. I am thinking about Red Dog. Perhaps the Kiowas have killed him."
White Otter remained silent. The words of Running Crow revived his fears. He knew the bitter enmity between the Kiowas and the Cheyennes, and he feared that Red Dog might have been killed soon after entering the camp. Running Crow seemed to understand the significance of his silence.
"I see that you believe Red Dog is dead," Running Crow said, sharply.
"No, I do not believe it," White Otter told him. "We cannot tell about it until we get to the Kiowa camp. I——"
He ceased speaking. A pony had called, close at hand. Running Crow sprang to his feet. The Cheyennes sat up to listen. White Otter stared anxiously into the night.
"It is one of the scouts," said Running Crow.
"Watch," White Otter cautioned him.
For some moments all was still. Then they heard some one riding toward them. They had little doubt that it was a scout, but they were cautious. The Cheyennes had risen and moved to the edge of the grove. The rider had stopped. They became suspicious. They waited anxiously for a signal. At last it came.
"Do not be afraid, my brothers," said a familiar voice.
A moment later Fighting Wolf, one of the scouts, appeared out of the darkness. Running Crow began to talk with him. The Cheyennes listened eagerly. The Sioux, however, were unable to understand his words.