“Okématan! Has the traitor ventured to return?” exclaimed Kateegoose, with an expression of surprise that was very unusual in an Indian.
“Ay, he has ventured,” responded Dechamp, “and some one has ventured to fire at him with intent to kill. By good luck he was a bad shot. He missed the man, though he hit and killed the horse. But I shall find the rascal out before long—he may depend on that!”
So saying, the commandant left the spot.
“Do you know anything about this?” asked La Certe, turning full on the Indian.
“Kateegoose is not a medicine-man. He cannot be in two places at once. He knows nothing.”
For a sly man La Certe was wonderfully credulous. He believed the Indian, and, returning to his tent, lay down again to finish the interrupted pipe.
“Kateegoose was trying his gun to see if it was loaded,” he said to his better half.
“That’s a lie,” returned Slowfoot, with that straightforward simplicity of diction for which she was famous.
“Indeed! What, then, was he doing, my Slowfoot?”
“He was loading his gun—not trying it.”