In spite of himself, in spite of his terrible situation, the youth's sense of humor sparkled up a moment.
"I don't know why I came here," he replied, "nor do I know how, nor do I know where I am."
The chief's gaze flickered a moment, but he replied with little modification of his sternness:
"You were brought here on the back of a pony. You are miles from where you were taken, and you are the prisoner of these warriors of the Dakota whom I lead."
Will knew well enough that the Sioux called themselves in their own language the Dakota, and that the chief would take a pride in so naming them to him.
"The Dakotas are a great nation," he said.
Heraka nodded, not as if it were a compliment, but as a mere statement of fact. Will considered. Would it be wise to ask about his friends? Might he not in doing so give some hint that could be used against them? The fierce gaze of the chief seemed actually to penetrate his physical body and read his mind.
"You are thinking of those who were with you," he said.
"My thoughts had turned to them."
"Call them back. It is a waste."