Akspine slept well until he was roused in the darkness of the early morning by the sharp report of a rifle. Grasping his gun he sprang to his feet, but could see no one. A second report rang out, followed by a groan. Turning in the direction from which the sound came, he heard a familiar voice utter his name, and recognized his friend Yellow Snake. From him he learned that two of the worst renegades in the camp had been heard plotting to slay him and steal his horse and other valuables. Yellow Snake had watched the men, and learning their destination had gone in another direction to the same spot. He had kept out of sight, yet knew where they were until he had seen Akspine enter the wood. Noting the place where the evil-disposed Indians had entered it, he had approached it at another. When Akspine lay down to rest he had crept up quietly and stationed himself near that he might keep guard and frustrate the wicked design of the would-be murderers. He knew by the movements of the Indians that they were likely to make the attack in the early dawn. His fears were fully realized. Long before the sun arose he made out two figures moving stealthily among the trees. Peering through the darkness he saw that each held his gun tightly in his hand. Yellow Snake watched them, and as they knelt down to take aim at the white man sleeping so peacefully at the foot of the tree, he raised his rifle and shot one of them dead; a second shot followed, and the other Indian fell to the ground with a groan. While Yellow Snake was relating all this to Akspine, a bullet whizzed past their ears. Grasping their guns they turned them upon the second Indian, whom they had thought dead. He was, however, only severely wounded, and had sufficient strength to raise his rifle and fire it. A bullet from Yellow Snake's gun finished him, and upon examination he found that the men were indeed two of the worst characters in the camp.
Akspine's gratitude was deep and sincere. He took Yellow Snake's hand in his and tried to stammer out his thanks in the little Indian language he had acquired while in the camp, but it was too slow and too inadequate a medium to express his feelings. He spoke from a full heart in his own English speech: "Yellow Snake, you have indeed been a true friend to me. Never can I repay you for your kindness and devotion. You have come a long way to protect me from these men, and if you had not done so I should have been killed. What can I do to pay you for it? Tell me and I will gladly do it."
Yellow Snake looked into Akspine's eyes as they shone with gratitude and love, and although he did not understand a word the white man had spoken, he gathered their import from his expression. A gleam of satisfaction was in his eyes and his face met Akspine's in its joy, as he answered in a few words:
"You are a stranger and a good man," he said; "I learned it from your life in our camp, and I love you as a brother. Let me go with you and I will be your companion and help you all I can. I have only done my duty."
Akspine and his friend carried the bodies of the slain Indians to the river bank, and fastening stones to the feet cast them in. They then spent some time searching for the horses that had belonged to the Indians, and when they found them, led them to the bank of the river and shot them there that the carcases might fall into the stream. Having disposed of all belonging to their foes, the friends crossed the river, and before setting out upon their day's journey, ate their morning meal with gratitude in their hearts to the Great Spirit for having preserved their lives.
The sun was high in the heavens before they were on their way northward, but by hard riding they reached a camp of the Blackfoot Indians before night fell. They found the lodge of Button Chief, who received them kindly and treated them with his accustomed hospitality, asking that they would make his lodge their home. The travellers, being tired, were allowed to rest, and although the news spread rapidly among the lodges that a white stranger had come to stay with them, and young and old were eager to see him and learn the import of his visit, none approached. Even the youngest showed no signs of impatience. In such manner the Indians are taught to suppress their emotions, and never to betray surprise, joy or fear.
Upon the following day the chief gave a feast in honor of his guests, and invited to it the other chiefs and soldiers of the tribe. The crier stood outside the lodge door and called them to come to the feast given by the chief. The invitation met with a hearty response, and a large party soon filled the lodge. The choicest pieces of buffalo meat were placed before the guests, and they were given an abundance of tea. The pipes were filled again and again, and passed from one to another of the company until they appeared to be on fire, yet the pipes were filled again. When these were smoked less vigorously the conversation began in earnest.
An interpreter was found in the camp to repeat in the ears of the people all that the white stranger had to tell them. This man had spent some time among the whites, having been taken in hand to be educated by a merchant, but unable to remain away he had come back to find a home with his own people. He could understand all that Akspine said, and repeated it to the listening chiefs in their own tongue.
Akspine related many scenes of his life in the Old World, and astonished them beyond measure as he told of the wonders of the sea, and the mighty vessels which crossed the ocean and plied upon the rivers and lakes; of the large stone and iron buildings in the towns and cities: of the tens of thousands of people, and finally, of a visit to Windsor Castle. The "Great Mother" is to the natives of the northwestern prairies the greatest among the chief men and women of the earth, a fact which is all the more singular when we remember the opinion generally held by the Indians on the inferiority of women. An aged warrior named White Calf had listened attentively, making no comment until Akspine told of the ships of iron manned by more than a hundred sailors and sailing across the ocean. Then he arose, and uttering a grunt of dissent and dissatisfaction, exclaimed:
"It is a lie! No one could do that. This white man is a medicine-man who has come to steal away the hearts of the people, and if you listen to him he will make you believe whatever he tells you." Saying which he departed, leaving the company doubtful whether to be amused or shocked.