Buffalo Bill looked carefully at the men as they rode up, and saw that they were Navahos. They were not dressed in their war paint, and when they came near enough he recognized their features as those of two of Red Cloud’s best braves.
The old man reappeared, rifle in hand, and was about to level the weapon at the redskins, when the border king stopped him and exchanged greetings with the Indians.
“What is the matter, Eagle Eye?” he asked the leader of the two braves.
The Indian was much excited. Instead of wasting time beating about the bush and exchanging empty compliments, after the manner of his people, he went straight to the point at once.
“Red Cloud has been captured by the Cave Dwellers, and carried off to one of their inaccessible caves in the mountains,” he said. “We fear that they are saving him to offer up as a sacrifice at their great feast of Toshak, five nights hence, and that then they will devour his flesh, and so disgrace our tribe and the bones of our ancestors forever.”
Buffalo Bill recoiled in horror at this news, for he had grown to like the young Indian extremely, on account of his high courage and manly qualities.
“How did this happen?” he asked. “Where were your braves, that they allowed their chief to be captured?”
“Blame us not, oh great white chief,” said Eagle Eye, “although in truth I sometimes blame myself. Yet I could not help it.
“Red Cloud went by night to visit the graves of his father and uncle and pray to the Great Manitou to give him wisdom and strength to rule properly over the tribe. It was his custom to do this once every moon.
“Knowing that the Cave Dwellers had sought his life many times, I begged him to let me accompany him to the graves and watch over his safety while he prayed. But he would not permit it. He strictly commanded me not to follow him, saying that he must be alone with the spirit of his father.