The lad grunted.
“What do you want?” inquired Cameron.
The young man stood silent, evidently finding speech difficult.
“Eagle Feather,” at length he said, “Little Thunder—plenty Piegan—run much cattle.” He made a sweeping motion with his arm to indicate the extent of the cattle raid proposed.
“They do, eh? Come in, my boy.”
The boy shook his head and drew back. He shared with all wild things the fear of inclosed places.
“Are you hungry?”
The boy nodded his head.
“Come with me.”
Together they walked down the street and came to a restaurant.