Buffalo Bill let the hand which grasped his revolver fall to his side, for he saw that the body of Leaping Dog was lying in a twisted and huddled heap on the floor.
The aged medicine man was towering over him, with his right arm outstretched, and his finger pointing down at the prostrate figure.
He looked as stern as an avenging angel. Fire seemed to flash from his eyes, and his frail form shook like an aspen leaf with the intensity of his passion.
Buffalo Bill bent down, and saw at a glance that Leaping Dog was dead.
There was a look of unfathomable terror in his eyes, and his body was twisted like the trunk of a blasted tree.
“He is dead,” said the border king. “You don’t want your tomahawk, Red Cloud. But how did he die, Silver Fox?”
“The dog was smitten by the wrath of the Great Manitou,” replied the old medicine man cautiously.
“So we see. But that wrath came through the medium of the Great Spirit’s servant, Silver Fox, I suppose. How did you do it?”
“Seek not to know the mysteries of the medicine lodge, Long Hair,” said the old priest solemnly. “They are known only to a few of us, who are bound by the most solemn oaths. We may not reveal them to our children or brothers—still less to white men. Let it suffice that there is an Indian magic which in some matters is greater than the wisdom of the palefaces.
“I knew what was in the heart of this dead dog,” he went on, spurning the body of Leaping Dog with his foot as he spoke. “I knew that he meant to murder Red Cloud as soon as he had formed the purpose in his mind. I waited for him to come and raise the knife, as I knew he would do, and then I invoked the wrath of the Great Manitou and slew him.”