“I’ll back Miss Helen up,” he declared promptly. “If you don’t tell us we’ll both refrain from speech for—five minutes.”
Kate sighed.
“Oh, dear. Then I’ll have to tell. It’s bullying. That’s what it is. But—here goes.”
Helen beamed upon Bill, and the man’s blue eyes beamed back again. While he settled himself in his chair Helen returned to her less dignified seat upon the table.
“Let’s see,” began Kate thoughtfully. “Now, just where does it begin? Oh, I know. There’s a longish rhyme about it, but I can’t remember that. The story of it goes like this.
“Somewhere away back, a young chief broke away from his tribe with a number of braves. The young chief had fallen in love with the squaw of the chief of the tribe, and she with him. Well, they decided to elope together, and the young chief’s followers decided to go with them, taking their squaws with them, too. It was decided at their council that they would break away from the old chief and form themselves into a sort of nomadic tribe, and wander over the plains, fighting their way through, until they conquered enough territory on which to settle, and found a new great race.
“Well, I guess the young chief was a great warrior, and so were his braves, and, for awhile, wherever they went they were victorious, devastating the country by massacre too terrible to think of. But the chief of the tribe, from which these warriors had broken away, was also a great and savage warrior, and when he discovered that his wife was faithless and had eloped with another, stealing all his best war paint and fancy bead work, he rose up and used dreadful language, and gathered his braves together. They set out in pursuit of the absconders, determined to kill both the wife and her paramour.
“To follow the young chief’s trail was an easy matter, for it was a trail of blood and fire, and, after long days of desperate riding, the pursuers came within striking distance. Then came the first pitched battle. Both sides lost heavily, but the fight was indecisive. The result of it, however, showed the pursuers that they had no light task before them. The chief harangued his braves, and prepared to follow up the attack next day. The fugitives, though their losses had been only proportionate with those of their pursuers, were not in such good case. Their original numbers were less than half of their opponents.
“However, they were great fighters, and took no heed, but got ready at once for more battle. The young chief, however, had a streak of caution in him. Maybe he saw what the braves all missed. If in a fight he lost as many men as his opponents, and the opponents persisted, why, by the process of elimination, he would be quietly but surely wiped out.