“Then, understand what will happen!” Crawford spoke sternly, gravely, his tone startling her anew. “He will seize you, and will then have everything. Do you imagine that he has any respect or reverence for you? He is an animal, an animal! If you do not believe me, ask Frontin, who knows him.”
She believed him and said no more; only a perceptible pallor crept over her face as she waited, and deepened there.
There was no long delay. Presently the chief of the Stone Men was led forward by two of the Dacotah scouts. He was a young man, naked to the waist, bearing two long bead belts around his neck and carrying a rolled strip of bark. He came to the Star Woman, met her gaze with grave dignity; then, removing his belts, he delivered them. He spoke in the Dacotah tongue, which Standing Bull translated for Crawford and Frontin.
“I bring you a belt from our father Maclish, called Red Bull,” he said, handing the first belt to the Star Woman. “It says this: ‘Place yourself in my hands and avoid the shedding of blood. I will take you into my lodge and you shall have honour among the Stone Men. The Dacotah and their brethren the Stone Men shall dwell in peace together, and their nation will become great. A tree of peace shall be planted whose branches will overshadow all the western country. If you assent to this, return yourself with my messenger.’ Thus says the first belt.
“Here is the second belt,” and the envoy held out one composed of black beads. “This is what it says. ‘If you do not return with my messenger; if you do not come to me at once, then I will come and take you. All those men with you shall go into the kettles of the Stone Men. You cannot escape me, and the blood of your young men will be upon your head.’ Thus speaks the second belt.”
Now Crawford had on this morning hung the Star of Dreams outside his shirt, since the metal irked his tender new skin. The Assiniboine glanced around, saw the jewel, and in silence held out his roll of birch to Crawford, who took it. The Star Woman came to him, bitter anxiety in her eyes, yet with a proud anger flaming behind the anxiety.
“You have heard those belts? I cannot give myself to this man—sooner would I leap into the lake below! How can we gain time?”
“We cannot,” said Crawford grimly, and unrolled the birch. “Now let us see what message the Red Bull has sent to me.”
He studied the scrawl in the fresh-peeled bark, and then read it aloud, translating it into French that all might comprehend. To the woman who listened at his elbow with bated breath, to the dark warriors standing around, that message came with a blunt shock—a shock which betrayed the whole truth to them.
“Make her yield to me, and I will spare you and Frontin. I have you surrounded and will grant no quarter to others; not one of the Nadouisioux must live to tell of this matter. If she will not yield, then persuade her out to speak with me, and you shall still be spared. Refuse, and I finish the torture that I began a while back.”