Thus directly referred to, Eaglenose, who was but a young warrior just emancipated from boyhood, and who had yet to win his spurs, rose, and, becoming so grave and owlish that his naturally prominent feature seemed to increase in size, said sententiously—
“It is not for squaws to inquire into the plans of men, but as there is no secret in what we are going to do, I may tell you, mother, that women and children have not yet learned to live on grass or air. We go just now to procure fresh meat.”
So saying, the stripling pitched the jumping-jack into the lap of Skipping Rabbit, and strode out of the lodge with the pomposity of seven chiefs!
That night, when the captives were lying side by side in Umqua’s wigwam, gazing at the stars through the hole which was left in the top for the egress of the smoke, Moonlight said to her little friend—
“Does the skipping one know that it is Rushing River who has caught us and carried us away?”
The skipping one said that she had not known, but, now that she did know, she hated him with all her heart.
“So do I,” said Moonlight firmly. But Moonlight was wrong, for she hated the man with only a very small portion of her heart, and loved him with all the rest. It was probably some faint recognition of this fact that induced her to add with the intense energy of one who is resolved to walk in the path of duty—“I hate all the Blackfeet!”
“So do I,” returned the child, and then pausing, slowly added, “except”—and paused again.
“Well, who does the skipping one except?”
“Eaglenose,” replied the skipper promptly. “I can’t hate him, he is such a very funny brave.”