When he had watered the horses and returned, the breakfast was ready, the meat roasted to a turn, and the coffee smoking hot in the tin coffeepot.
Buffalo Bill called the Piute and his Apaches to the morning meal, avoiding any mention, for the time, of the things that had so disturbed them. It was the best course to pursue, under the circumstances. Yet they did not eat well—their appetites were gone for the time.
Only when the scout ordered a forward march, after breakfast, did Little Cayuse bring up the matter that troubled them.
“Apaches say um bad medicine, Pa-e-has-ka!” he said.
Buffalo Bill looked directly at him.
“You are the chief of these Apaches, Little Cayuse,” he stated. “And a chief must be brave, if his followers are to be brave. Tell your Apaches to go on and follow the trail they will find out there. You can see some of it here.” He pointed to the gigantic footprints. “Out there is the trail of an Indian horse, joining this one. Are you ready to obey orders, Cayuse, or shall I go on and leave you and the Apaches here?”
His tone was stern, for the first time.
Chappo, Yuppah, and Pedro looked at each other, a shrinking expression in their black eyes; but Little Cayuse, thus appealed to, straightened his muscular shoulders and lifted his head.
“Ai, Pa-e-has-ka,” he said, “Little Cayuse go on.”
He strode forth into the trail left by the big-footed man.