The Indian grunted, then asked:
“Why come see red man die?”
“We came so you would not die; we bring food for you and the papoose.”
“What does the white man want?” demanded the Indian, somewhat mollified by the promise of food.
“Nothing, but to aid the red brother, who is sick.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Sioux incredulously.
The child was chewing pemmican now, taken from the haversack of Wild Bill, and the sight of it seemed to soften the old Indian.
Buffalo Bill now went outside and with Wild Bill and Skibo began preparing their own evening meal, while Nomad, Cayuse, and the boy kept watch against surprise.
Over the fire some of the pemmican was simmered until a sweet, warm broth was made and well seasoned with pepper, which appeals to the Indian taste, and a dipperful taken to the old Indian. As he sipped it the fire died out of his eyes and he said gratefully to the scout:
“Long Hair heap kind; old Indian no good: lost um medicine; banished; tribe go away; only papoose left.”