Short Nose grunted deep in his throat and shook his head.
"Unfortunately," he answered, "the Crows have no warrior capable of planning and carrying out such an enterprise. It'll be as much as we can do to defend our village when we ourselves are attacked. Now, if Buckskin Jack were here——!"
There was a long spell of silence in the lodge, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Rube had closed his heavy eyes when he again heard Kiddie's voice.
"Tell me this, Simon," said Kiddie, seeming to change the subject from warfare to hunting. "Exactly how did you learn of that herd of buffalo, back of Washakee Peak?"
Simon Sprott was meditatively puffing at his tobacco pipe; but he paused to answer—
"Word was brought in by one of our scouts."
"Did that scout see the herd with his own eyes?" Kiddie pursued.
"Well, no; I believe not," Simon answered absently. "A lone trapper on Box Elder Creek gave him the information; said it was the biggest herd seen on these hunting grounds for many summers back."
"Trapper might have been one of Broken Feather's spies," Kiddie suggested very quietly.
"Eh?" Simon Sprott looked up sharply and blew a long, slow jet of smoke from his lips.