Standing Bull seated himself and drew his robe about his knees.
For a long moment, Maclish was absolutely beyond words with torrential fury. He saw now that he had been tricked into receiving these belts, which had been meant for Crawford. More, the Dacotah were openly hostile to him and friendly to Crawford, while he himself was trapped and helpless on this islet. A slight stir among the rocks betokened that at least one other redskin lay hidden. His red features whitened and became almost livid, then crimsoned again. His breath came hoarsely. Yet he tried to master himself, his big bearded jaw jutting forth, his hands clenched until the knuckles showed white. The effort succeeded.
He moved, stirred his broad bulk, opened his wool coat and flung it off. One hand went out to the red wampum belt and drew it in; the other went to his belt and produced a long knife. With a swift motion he drove the knife through the centre of the wampum belt, which he twisted about the haft; he flung belt and knife at the feet of Standing Bull.
“There is my answer to the Star Woman,” he said, and with an angry laugh rose to his feet. “So her lodge is pitched at the lake of many stars? Good. I shall come and take her as my squaw. The Stone Men shall dance with your scalps and put you into the kettle, taking your women as slaves. That is my response. As for this rascal,” and he whirled on Crawford with a baleful glare, “stand up and fight, ye vagabond rogue! Settle our affairs, as ye said, and I’ll crop your ears for ye.”
Crawford rose, his face very bleak and hard.
“Fight? Who said fight?” he demanded, giving Maclish a cool stare. “I’ve no intention of fighting with you. I said we’d settle our business—ay! But we’ll not fight.”
The Scot stared at him, amazed, jaw fallen in sheer astonishment.
“Eh, man? But——”
Swift as light, his careless attitude giving no warning of his intention, Crawford swung on his heel and drove his fist into the pit of the big man’s stomach. It was a terrific blow, with body weight behind it. Caught all astare and unsuspecting, Maclish grunted as the breath was smashed out of him. An expression of mute agony swept into his face, and he slowly toppled forward, gasping and senseless.
“Was-te!” came the guttural approval of the two chiefs. Crawford, standing above the unconscious Maclish, looked at them for a moment.