When it was finished the old man turned to Black Bear.
"Have you no love for your people," he asked, "that you are willing to lead them to death and destruction? Well are you named 'Black Bear,' who sees not the danger when his nose is tickled by the honey-pots of strangers. You would have betrayed your people. You would have led your own kindred into the snare laid for you by the white man who has a bad heart toward Indians. You have caused the death of our young men. You are not worthy to live in the lodge of your people. Go; from this day forth you are no longer one of us. We cast you out. Now go!"
He slunk away, and at the same moment a young squaw entered the lodge of the chief in search of Eagle Eye.
"You speak the tongue of the white man," she said. "Come!"
Leading him to a teepee not far away she pushed aside the skin that hung over the door. He entered and saw Red Snake lying on a pile of skins and blankets in a corner, crushed and bleeding, the seal of approaching death upon his face.
As Eagle Eye approached him he opened his eyes.
"You die," said the Indian, looking down upon him sternly, his arms folded across his breast.
Red Snake looked up, the dew of death upon his forehead.
"Yes," he sneered. "It's all over. The game's up—and I'm glad of it."
"Who are you? What you name?" asked Eagle Eye.