When he returned he said, pointing to the west:
“Injun ponies that way. Mebbyso Crow warriors go cross.”
“Well, I guess we don’t care for their company, so we had better canter along ahead.”
As they were about to mount, an Indian pushed through a clump of willows, rode to within ten feet of the scout, stoically refraining from word or glance until he had halted his pony. Then, fixing his piercing eyes on the scout, the Indian said:
“What Pa-e-has-ka do here?”
Buffalo Bill looked steadily at the handsome Indian for a moment, and then answered as he advanced with extended hand:
“To help good Indians like White-man-runs-him against bad palefaces.”
“Ugh! Pa-e-has-ka heap brave paleface. Always friend of red man. Only one like um—Old Curly.”[A]
“Yes, chief, the Boy General is a friend of the Indians, and so is Buffalo Bill. The Great Father at Washington has sent Pa-e-has-ka here to stop the paleface robbers from stealing the red man’s land, blankets, and game.”
“Better stop bad palefaces selling fire-water to red man, too.”