“Of course I can tell him all that, but you can make up your mind to be hanged if you are ever captured,” said Carl. “Is there anybody here who can read writing?”
“Yes; there are three fellows here who used to go to school at Carlisle,” said the squawman. “You see, after you have written the letter I will take it to them to see if you have read it to me right, and if you have I will send it off.”
“It is lucky I spoke to you about that,” said Carl to himself. “I’ll write such a letter as I am willing those Carlisle fellows should read. Do they, too, believe in the Ghost Dance?” he added aloud.
“I tell you that everybody believes in it who has seen it,” returned the squawman. “Everything goes to prove that it is a part of the religion that the white folks have got up for themselves.”
“In what way does it prove it?” asked the scout. He had a chance now to learn something about the Ghost Dance. He was more interested in it than he was in effecting his escape.
“Why, this earth is going to be destroyed,” said Harding. “It is all worn out now, the buffalo and all the other game is gone up, and we are going to have it new, as it was before the white folks came here and spoiled it all for us. Those who don’t believe in the Ghost Dance will all be killed by a fire or an earthquake or something, and those who believe enough in it to wear their ghost shirts will be saved.”
“What is that about the ghost shirts?” said Carl; for you must remember that what this squawman said was all news to him.
“Hold on and I will show you one,” said Harding. “You must say nothing to nobody about it, for if you do, the shirt will not be of any use to me.”
“Oh, I will say nothing about it,” said the scout with a laugh. “I shall not get a chance. If the general will not exchange those two prisoners for me, I shall be in a bad fix.”
“Won’t you, though?” said the squawman with a grin. “You will be gone up, sure. However, it will give you a little chance for your life.”