The coffee was drunk, and then the king of scouts, believing the Indian to be in a fairly quiet frame of mind, said:
“Why did the chief kill Panecho, the Hualapi?”
Thunder Cloud frowned. He did not answer the question.
It was repeated, and with sternness. The Apache noted the menacing expression in the scout’s eyes, and mumbled something about an old feud.
“You are dodging the issue, Thunder Cloud,” said Buffalo Bill sharply. “I must know the truth. You are in my power. Why should I not kill you?”
The Indian shut his lips tightly. He was a stoic. “Why not?” he repeated.
The king of scouts took a new tack. “What if I take you to the village of the Hualapis and deliver you over to the brothers of Panecho?”
Thunder Cloud shivered. “No, no,” he entreated. “Let the great white warrior take his revenge. Thunder Cloud is content to die by the hand of Buffalo Bill.”
The king of scouts appeared to seriously consider the matter. “I’ll tell you what I will do,” he said, after a pause. “I will deal with you myself, if you, on your part, will tell me what made you shoot Panecho, and why you are in my camp, a spy.”
The Apache, who was without honor, and who would have betrayed his best friend if he saw a chance of personal profit, promptly replied: “Thunder Cloud killed Panecho because the Hualapi was hot on the trail of Thunder Cloud’s friend.”