“Did your tribe once live here?”
“Wuh.”
“Do they never come here now?”
The old Indian shook his head sadly. “Never look here now. Long Hair no watchum; Sioux no come.”
“Why were you banished?”
“Lost um medicine; too old hunt; left um die with papoose. Old squaw die, young find um young chief, likeum better, no work for Black Coyote.”
It was a tragedy of the children of the plain, but rendered doubly so by the abandonment of this little child to starve when the old Indian should fail to provide food.
Buffalo Bill was puzzled. To leave this pair to the fate which must soon overtake them, even if he provided food for the present, was manifestly inhuman. To take them with him to Fort Phil Kearney seemed impossible, owing to the infirm condition of the old man; neither could he bear to separate the pair, each of which was all the other had.
“How far to Fort Kearney?” he asked of the Indian.
“One sun walk.”