But of all the braves whom the chief watched, there was none he kept his eye on more intently than Black Panther.
That warrior said no word, but he looked steadily at Buffalo Bill with a baleful glare that would have done credit to the ferocious animal after which he was named.
“Black Panther bad to-night,” said the chief, in a whisper to Buffalo Bill. “He hate all white men—he hate you most. Be ready. He want to fight, but I try to stop him.”
“All right, chief,” replied the border king. “I’m sure I don’t want to fight him, if I can help it. You have treated us well, and we don’t want to have any trouble. We’d like to remain friends with all your band.”
The words were hardly spoken, when Black Panther rose suddenly to his feet and commenced to declaim a loud, passionate speech which even awakened some of the drunken sleepers.
Buffalo Bill could not understand many of the words. Although he was familiar with some dialects of the Sioux tongue, he did not know the particular one spoken by this band.
But the purport of his speech was plain enough from Black Panther’s impassioned gestures and the look of hatred which he concentrated on the king of the scouts.
Even Captain Meinhold and Hare, although less versed than the two scouts in the ways of the Indians, could not help seeing that what Black Panther wanted to do was to provoke a fight with Buffalo Bill.
In the middle of the harangue, Running Water rose to his feet and motioned to the brave to seat himself on the ground again; but Black Panther remained defiantly standing.
“What does he say?” the border king asked the chief.