He had slunk away in as secluded a position as he could find seeking to attract no observation to himself.
His eyes were bent down, his long, black hair over his face, and his form crouching, and as still as a statue of bronze.
But his ears were open to every word said.
He saw the welcome given by the chiefs to the settler, Vance Bernard, and heard their words to him.
He also heard the words of the settler in return, and when the name was spoken aloud, the name that was given the white man by the Indians, he gave a slight start as of surprise or delight.
"The Eagle-that-Kills is welcome in the council lodge of the red men. He has been their friend ever since the days when he was their pale-face chief. The Sioux have followed him many moons ago upon the trail of the pale-faces, and they listen to his voice in silence, they know that he speaks wisdom."
Such was the welcome of the leading Indian chief to the Eagle-that-Kills, and as the words reached the ears of the disguised officer his thoughts went back into the past, when he had known of a white renegade who became chief of the Sioux, and was a cruel foe to his own race.
Then he had heard how this same white renegade, known as Eagle-that-Kills, had taken a few braves and haunted the stage-trails, where he was said to have gotten a great deal of booty.
Then he had heard of this same renegade going to the mines of the Black Hills, where it was said that he had been killed in a revolver duel with a brother miner, while others alleged that he had mysteriously disappeared, and had departed this life at the end of a rope.
After the welcome of the chiefs the Eagle-that-Kills arose to speak.