“One pony is not enough for a gun; he must give three ponies. He is too young to have three ponies,” replied the trader.
“Say to the Yellow-Eye that I will give him two ponies,” risked the Bat.
“No, no; he says three ponies, and you will not get them for less. The white chief means what he says. He says you must leave here now with those people so that older men can come and trade.”
“Let me see the gun,” demanded the boy. A gun was necessary for the Bat’s future progression.
A subordinate was directed to show a gun to him, which he did by taking him one side and pulling one from a cart. It was a long, yellow-stocked smoothbore, with a flintlock. It had many brass tacks driven into the stock, and was bright in its cheap newness. As the Bat took it in his hand he felt a nervous thrill, such as he had not experienced since the night he had pulled the dripping hair from the Absaroke. He felt it all over, smoothing it with his hand; he cocked and snapped it; and the little brown bat on his scalp-lock fairly yelled: “Get your ponies, get your ponies—you must have the gun.”
Returning the gun, the Bat ran out, and after a time came back with his three ponies, which he drove up to the white man’s pen, saying in Chis-chis-chash: “Here are my ponies. Give me the gun.”
The white chief glanced at the boy as he sat there on a sturdy little clip-maned war-pony—the one he had stolen from the Absaroke. He spoke, and the interpreter continued: “The trader says he will take the pony you are riding as one of the three.”
“Tell him that I say I would not give this pony for all the goods I see. Here are my three ponies; now let him give me the gun before he makes himself a liar,” and the boy warrior wore himself into a frenzy of excitement as he yelled: “Tell him if he does not give me the gun he will feel this war-pony in the dark, when he travels; tell him he will not see this war-pony, but he will feel him when he counts his ponies at daylight. He is a liar.”
“The white chief says he will take the war-pony in place of three ponies, and give you a gun, with much powder and many balls.”
“Tell the Yellow-Eye he is a liar, with the lie hot on his lips,” and the Bat grew quiet to all outward appearance.