“No; they were upon the other bank of the river. The chief was alone in our camp, in consultation with the lieutenant, the surveyors, and the hunter, Glyndon. They proposed to hem you in, and prevent your retreat. They do not seek to injure you, however; all they wish is to have you give up Oneotah, and allow the survey to proceed.”
The Prophet laughed contemptuously.
“And if I should refuse to do either?” he returned.
“They will attack you.”
“Fools! The Nez Perces will not fight against Smoholler. When I appear before them, they will scatter like a flock of sheep before the wolf. Multuomah can not take Oneotah from me by force—he had best not attempt it.”
Percy, remembering Multuomah’s misgivings, was inclined to think that this was no idle boast of the Prophet’s.
“I returned to you to arrange matters peaceably, as much as to gain some intelligence of my father, if you can give it to me,” he said.
“I can give it to you,” replied Smoholler; “but it will try your nerves to receive it, I warn you in advance. You must penetrate with me into the Mystic Cavern beneath yonder cliff—the abode of evil spirits and malignant demons.”
“I will do so,” rejoined Percy, promptly.
“And so will I,” added Cute.