“You are one of Oak Heart’s people?” Cody asked.
“I was Red Knife, of the Sioux.”
The scout overlooked the emphasis on the “was” for the moment. His attention was particularly stung by the name the brave gave.
“‘Red Knife!’” he repeated.
The brave bowed and was silent.
“It was you who killed the white chief of the pony soldiers?” gasped Cody.
Red Knife nodded again.
The scout fiercely gripped the rifle he carried. In his heart he felt like shooting the brave down where he stood. But he repressed this momentary feeling and said:
“I have sworn vengeance against all who had to do with the death of that young man. He was as my son. Will Red Knife fight Pa-e-has-ka? Let him choose his own weapons and come against me that I may kill him in fair fight.”
“I heard of your oath over the dead body of the brave white chief,” said Red Knife. “Pa-e-has-ka is a great chief himself. Red Knife is no match for him. But Red Knife now has no name and is of no people. Would Pa-e-has-ka fight with such a one?”