“What you do with Laughing Eyes?”
“None of your damned business!”
“You promise Indian girl to make her your squaw.”
“You lie!”
“No, you lie,—she tell me. Now you keep promise and let white squaw go. Then all well.” The young chief’s words were calm and clear.
“What! marry an Injun? I’ll see you in hell first.”
“You no too proud to use Injun girl. Now you make Laughing Eyes your squaw, or me kill you!” A savage fire blazed in the young chief’s eyes. Bud cowered under his glance. The other Indians stood like statues watching them.
Then Old Copperhead said firmly: “Flying Arrow right. You marry Injun girl. Let white girl free. You do this. All well. You no do it. You die.”
“Well, have your way then,” said the cowardly cur, playing for time; “we’ll settle the job to-morrow.”
This promise made, the council turned again to the main issue, and soon decided on a plan of action. They were to follow their old chief’s advice. About midnight the squaws and papooses under his lead were to make a forced march, while the bucks stayed behind to guard the trail. The white girl was not to be harmed, but taken back in the morning to the mouth of the pass and set free.