“One sun.”
“We will go with ponies,” said the scout.
“Good.”
Cayuse saddled Bear Paw and brought out the pony that had followed from the plain, for the Indian.
White-man-runs-him examined the pony carefully and expressed himself with:
“Heap good pony.”
“Yes,” answered the scout; “he is a very good pony; he is yours.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Indian, once more going over the handsome little animal, and then swinging upon his back with evident satisfaction.
Buffalo Bill’s pards were left in the hills and continued to prosecute the search for Price and Ike, while the scout rode off to visit Sitting Bull, near Big Horn Cañon.
That Buffalo Bill’s interview with the powerful chief of the Dakota nation was fruitless is a matter of history. The Napoleon of the Sioux would hear to no terms. He was defiant. He said his people had been robbed, and now the Great Father at Washington had demanded the land on which they lived. The white man with the pick and shovel, and with traps and gun were killing off and driving the game and fur from the red man’s hunting grounds. They would move no more. If the red man was to be driven from the face of the earth it must be done with bullet and steel.