Crawford now waited to see whether the calumet would be offered him. He was confident that this acquiescence from Maclish had settled the matter of the message, but he depended on the two Dacotah to get him and Frontin safely away, as he had implied to them. Sight of the Star of Dreams had confused the whole issue for the two chieftains.
They were in no haste, those redskins; this affair was so extraordinary that they were somewhat at a loss. Finally Standing Bull got the pipe stuffed, and held a brand to it. When the pipe was lighted, he puffed ceremoniously to the winds, the sun and the earth. His companion did likewise—and the pipe was then handed to Crawford.
So far, the game was won.
While Frontin smoked in turn, then handed the pipe back, Maclish sat waiting, intent and narrow-eyed, fully aware by this time of his own impotence. The pipe was refused him, and he knew what this meant. It was doubtful if the Stone Men were yet aware that the three whites had gone to the islet. Maclish would be in sharp jeopardy unless he were careful, so the burly Scot bottled up his anger and settled down to play his game.
Laying aside the pipe, Standing Bull now came to his feet. He put a hand beneath his robe and produced a belt of ordinary porcelain trade-beads, which he dropped at the feet of Maclish.
“This belt,” he began, “says that the Star Woman has heard of your search for her. It says that her manitou does not love Englishmen, who are allies of the Iroquois and enemies of our father Onontio at Montreal.”
Standing Bull produced a second belt of the same material, turned to the circle of dead men, and laid that belt across the knees of the Assiniboine chieftain, whom he addressed.
“This second belt is for the Stone Men; let their eyes look upon it, let their ears be opened to it! It says that their manitou is bad, and therefore the Star Woman has punished them. It says that they have done wrong to befriend the English, for the Dacotah people have a French father.”
Now, turning back to Maclish, Standing Bull produced a third belt—not of white porcelain this time, but a flaming crimson belt of valuable wampum shells, which he dropped before the Scot.
“This third belt is for you, Red Bull. It says: ‘You cannot go farther; the trail is closed against you. The Star Woman knows your people for bad men and does not desire to look upon your face. Go back. If you come farther your scalp will be dried in the lodges of The Men, your skin will be stretched on the bark wall of the council house; your manzakawan, your iron tube in which dwells a spirit, will sit in the lodge of the Star Woman above the lake of many stars, and will spit no more bullets.’ I have spoken.”