This man had a cigar between his lips, stood like one waiting to be photographed, one booted foot resting upon a rock before him, and his elbow leaning upon his knee as a rest.
His spurs were of gold, his belt of arms showed that they were ornamented with the same precious metal, and, altogether, he was a most picturesque and striking figure, a man to stand in awe of.
As the sergeant approached, old Iron Eyes arose and greeted him, greeted him as he would one for whom he held both reverence and affection.
“Iron Eyes is surprised at meeting his paleface brother, the great medicine chief, White Wolf. The Iron Eyes has with him another great chief of the paleface race, the Eagle, his brother and ally, and here is my son, the mighty young chief who will some day wear the war bonnet of old Iron Eyes.
“It gladdens my heart to again see my brother, the White Wolf. He is welcome, and he has proven my friend.”
Such was the welcome and the introduction of the sergeant to those assembled about the camp fire in the little ravine among the cliffs.