“Then Good Voice Hawk whispered to Brave Eagle, lying there beside him, ‘Cousin, let us kill the man and scalp him and drive the horses home.’ And Brave Eagle answered, ‘No, cousin, I think that would be wrong, for we are only scouts. We should tell the blotan hunka what we have seen, and they will know what is best to do.’ But Good Voice Hawk would not listen. ‘If you are afraid,’ he said, ‘of course I will do it myself.’
“He started crawling back and then got up and ran to where the mule and horse were tied. So what could Brave Eagle do but follow him? Should a warrior let his comrade fight alone, even if he is wrong?
“Now when they had ridden back to the top of the slope, there not very far away was the man with the band of horses. So Good Voice Hawk charged upon him, crying, ‘hoka-hey,’ in a loud voice; and Brave Eagle followed on his mule. The man had time to draw his bow and let an arrow fly, but he was so excited that he missed; and just as Good Voice Hawk came near, the man’s horse shied, and Good Voice Hawk charged by and did not touch him.
“Then Brave Eagle, who was close behind, with one swing of his war club struck the man from his horse; and already he had taken the scalp when the other circled back, crying, ‘Cousin, they are coming!’
“By now it looked very bad down there in the valley, for the people were boiling out of the village like a swarm of bumblebees, and over them a roar of voices grew. ‘Let us get out of here!’ cried Good Voice Hawk; and, without stopping to coup the enemy, he headed down the slope at a run; and after him went the homely warrior pounding on his mule.
“They were not very far out in the open country when, looking back, they saw many mounted warriors coming out of the pines back yonder, and they were coming very fast, because their horses were fresh and strong with plenty of grass. They were coming too fast for the mule, and it was beginning to look bad for those who fled, when Good Voice Hawk stopped his horse and cried out to his comrade, ‘Cousin, give me the scalp.’ And the other, who thought only of the scalp and that it might be taken from him, gave it to his comrade; for it was not his way to think bad things of people.
“Then Brave Eagle was all alone, kicking his mule along; and Good Voice Hawk grew smaller, fleeing yonder, and the sound of many hoofs behind grew louder.
“Well, that night the handsome young warrior rode into the camp of his people with a scalp to show and a brave story to tell. There were many, many enemies, too many for even the whole party to fight; but it was good to hear how Good Voice Hawk had fought until his friend was killed. Then he had fled, and only the Great Spirit and a fast horse had saved him.
“That night the people heard the sound of mourning in Red Hail’s tepee—weeping and mourning far into the night; and when the sound ceased, those who still listened thought, ‘The girl has cried herself to sleep at last!’
“But Red Hail had not slept; and when the morning came, she was not there. Wherever the people looked, she was not there either. She had just vanished like a spirit in the night, and her horse was grazing with the others near the camp.