Bright-eye looked at her with a perfectly natural amazement.
"Are we not four?" he said.
"I only see the two Pale hunters and my brother—for whom is the last bed?"
"For my sister, Prairie-Flower, I suppose; has she not come to ask hospitality of her Pale brothers?"
The girl shook her head.
"The women of my tribe," she said, with an accent of wounded pride, "have their cabins for sleeping, and do not pass the night in the lodges of the warriors."
Bright-eye bowed respectfully.
"I am mistaken," he said; "I did not wish to vex my sister; but on seeing her enter my lodge so late, I supposed she came to ask hospitality."
The girl smiled with finesse.
"My brother is a great warrior of the Palefaces," she said; "his head is grey; he is very cunning; why does he pretend not to know the reason that brings Prairie-Flower to his lodge?"