Because she had been with the Wolf Soldier, who was a friend of Red Wing, the girl had not been tied. The Wolf Soldier, otherwise Barlow, rode not far off; and he, like the girl, was not tied.
Though astonished and startled, the girl grasped the knife.
“The stars are friendly,” she said, being quick of comprehension. She did not know how it had been done, but she knew that Wild Bill’s hands were free, and that he had given her his knife.
“If one of the stars should fall, I should not be surprised,” he said. “In fact, I’m always prepared not to be surprised at anything.”
“It seems to me you’re finding your tongue, Hickok!” Barlow grumbled.
“As I’m not addressing my interesting remarks to you, I do not know that they call for an answer from you,” Wild Bill retorted.
“You’re still believing that nonsense, that I’m in with these redskins?” said Barlow, who was chagrined by Wild Bill’s curt reply.
“I don’t waste my breath on renegades,” said Wild Bill scornfully.
Red Wing, hearing the words, began to edge near, and Wild Bill dropped the unprofitable discussion.
“Does the Wolf Soldier want the white scout lashed with a whip?” Red Wing asked, as if he longed to do that lashing.