The woman seemed to take a delight in exciting the anger of the Indian, instead of calming it.
"Because doubtlessly," she said, "a wiser man than the Red Wolf has gained the votes of his brothers."
"Let my mother say that a greater rogue stole them from him, and her words will be true," he exclaimed violently. "Grizzly Bear is a Comanche dog, the son of an exile, received through favour into my tribe; his scalp will soon dry on the girdle of the Red Wolf."
"Patience!" the woman said in a hoarse voice. "Vengeance is a fruit which is only eaten ripe: the Red Wolf is a warrior; he can wait."
"Let my mother order," the Indian said, suddenly calmed; "her son will obey."
"Has the Red Wolf succeeded in obtaining the medicine which Prairie-Flower wears round her neck?"
The Indian bowed his head in confusion.
"No," he said hoarsely. "Prairie-Flower never leaves the White Buffalo; it is impossible to approach her."
The woman smiled ironically.
"What! did Red Wolf ever keep a promise?"