"Here, you," he asked Rain, "who killed that cow?" I translated.
Now Rain was afraid of pony soldiers, but she remembered being insulted by her man, and charged with being a wanton. He should rue that!
"He killed the cow," she answered, pointing at Tail-Feathers, who lay still unconscious.
"And the pony?"
Again she pointed at the police-interpreter.
"And who killed my Indian scout?"
For answer, she showed the soldier that long red, burning wale across my shoulder, while her pointing finger accused the police-interpreter of attempted murder. "Boy-drunk-in-the-morning," she said in Blackfoot, "tell my words to the pony soldier. Tell him, I say you had no cartridges when this man tried to kill you."
"She says," I explained, "that I had no ammunition, and that's a fact, worse luck."
"Tell him," said Rain, "that you clubbed Tail-Feathers with your medicine-iron."
I blushed as I translated. "This mighty hero," she says, "charged like the great chief of all the buffalo. His name is Charging Buffalo, and all that sort of stuff, don't ye know."