“The very things I can get along without they give back; what I want they keep, chief,” said Buffalo Bill boldly.
Rain-in-the-face turned boldly upon the offending braves. One put down the knife of the scout, another a revolver. At an angry motion from their chief, the other weapons were produced, while one young buck brought forward a dilapidated army saddle, and still another a United States cavalry bridle the worse for wear.
“Do my warriors wish my heart to fill with anger against them?” sternly asked the old chief.
The delinquents then brought forward the bridle, saddle, and trappings, while another came innocently to the front leading a horse that was a fair picture of what Midnight might become after a month’s starving and hard riding.
“That is not my horse, chief.”
“Yes,” said the red pretender; “this Pa-e-has-ka horse.”
“You are a red liar. If Midnight looked like that the buzzards would follow him, and his backbone would cut through the saddle and split me up the back,” said Buffalo Bill.
Seeing that he could not fool the scout, ill as he was, the buck answered:
“It gooder horse than your horse.”
“You are a howling liar. Chief, I want my horse, not that skeleton.”