“It’s been the redskins’ fav’rite mode o’ warfare,” admitted the scout, “from Braddock’s day on.”
“In that connection,” continued the officer, rubbing his cheek reflectively, “I wonder if it might not be a smart plan to get some friendly Indians to go along with you,—to aid in the scouting. Not that I don’t consider you the best in the business, Bill, but an Indian has unique gifts in the scouting line that no white man ever possesses.”
“Yer right, sir,” Brown freely acknowledged. “Now take trackin’. An Injun is ace-high at that game. It’s born right in ’em.”
“Well, I’m glad that you agree with me.”
“Have you any certain Injun in mind, Major?”
“No, I haven’t; but I did think that a Pottawattomee would probably be the best. It seems a sure thing that most of that tribe will remain loyal to us.”
“Here’s a suggestion, sir,” broke in Tom Gordon eagerly. “If it’s a Pottawattomee you want, how about the young brave, Bright Star?”
“Bright Star! Hm! where have I heard that name before?” replied the officer, wrinkling his brow in deep thought.
“He fit quite a duel with the young Sac bully, Prairie Wolf,” explained Bill Brown, “only a day er so afore you got here.”
“That’s it,” nodded Whistler. “One of the lieutenants was telling me about the affair. From his account, this Bright Star must be a capable young warrior. He’ll fill the bill nicely. Think you can line him up?”