“Why, she’s a confounded squaw—and she’s an enemy—and she’s taking a message that may bring trouble to us all.”
“She must be stopped; but you must not kill her.”
“What’s the matter with you, Cody?” the young man demanded again. “She’s nothing but a redskin.”
“There is another way—without taking her life,” declared the scout.
“What makes you so tender of the squaw? Lord! I don’t ask you to shoot her,” and the lieutenant raised his carbine again.
Cody’s hand this time fell upon the lieutenant’s wrist with force, as he urged Chief alongside the other’s mount.
“And by God, sir! you shall not shoot her—above all men!” he cried.
“What do you mean by this?” demanded Lieutenant Danforth, his face white as death. “I have a reason for killing every damned Indian that comes under my eye—you know that, Bill Cody!”
“Perhaps; but not White Antelope,” said the scout earnestly.
“And why not White Antelope, as you call her? Is she any better than any other of the devil’s red spawn? Let go of my arm! I’m going to shoot that girl!”