"Bright Sun," he said, "it was you, our guide, who led the train into the pass that all might be killed?"
Bright Sun shrugged his shoulders, but a spark leaped from his eyes.
"What would you ask of me?" he replied. "In your code it was cunning, but the few and small must fight with cunning. The little man, to confront the big man, needs the advantage of weapons. The Sioux make the last stand for the Indian race, and we strike when and where we can."
The conscience of the chief was clear, so far as Dick could see, and there was nothing that he could say in reply. It was Bright Sun himself who resumed:
"But I spared you and your brother. I did that which caused you to be absent when the others were slain."
"Why?"
"Because you were different. You were not like the others. It may be that I pitied you, and it may be also that I like you—a little—and—you were young."
The man's face bore no more expression than carven oak, but Dick was grateful.
"I thank you, Bright Sun," he said, "and I know that Albert thanks you, too."
Bright sun nodded, and then fixed an intent gaze upon Dick.