It was useless for Carl to tell the squawman that the only way for him to get money was to go to work and earn it, for he had tried that plan on him while he was herding cattle for his father; so he said nothing. He leaned his elbows on his knees and watched the women as they came up and selected places for their tepees. When the squawman’s was put up, Carl found that he was in a position to see the Ghost Dance without going away from it. He would learn something more about it, then.
“Have your women got your tepee all fixed?” asked Carl. “Well, I am hungry.”
The squawman was hungry himself, and he had ordered the fire to be built and the iron pot to be placed over it. By the time that Harding had smoked his pipe he arose to his feet with the remark that he guessed grub was about ready, and went into the tepee. Carl kept close at his heels, and found that the iron pot had been removed from the fire and set in the middle of the tepee, with two wooden spoons beside it. The squawman took one, while Carl took the other and began to fish what he liked best from out the pot. That was all they had. The meat had been fresh the day before, but it had been cooked so many times that there was scarcely anything left of it. But he made a pretty good meal after all, and when he had satisfied his appetite he filled his pipe, lighted it with a brand from the fire, and went outside to enjoy it.
“I wouldn’t be at all uneasy if I knew where Lieutenant Parker is at this moment,” thought he, seating himself on a grassy mound beside the tepee. “I wonder if that horse has sense enough to follow his own trail back to the fort? And why didn’t they capture him, too, when they took me? I guess the squawman let him go.”
While he was busy thinking in this way Harding came out, followed by his wife.
“I am going up to sweat myself, to make myself ready for the Ghost Dance which will come off to-morrow,” said he. “Don’t attempt any nonsense now. These women will keep their eyes on you.”
“Why can’t you let me go with you?” asked Carl. “I want to see what you do in that sweat-box.”
“Well, I think on the whole that you had better stay here,” said Harding. “The bucks don’t like your kind any too well——”
“Why, that ought not to make any difference with them,” said Carl, who was evidently astonished at the squawman’s words. “I can see some of them here that have eaten more than one meal at my father’s house. They ought to think well of our family for that.”
“That does not make any difference. You belong to a class that has humbugged them all the way through, and there are men here in the party who have sworn to kill every paleface they meet. So I guess you had better stay here.”