"Impossible!"
"Poor Stoneheart!" said Rain pitifully. "You refuse to see, you refuse to hear, you refuse to know. You make yourself just like a stone which cannot see, or hear, or feel, or know anything at all. So if I took you to Mont-re-al—I read the word in your mind—you would come back from the dream saying it was a dream, not real. The woman is a fraud and plays tricks. You only want to prove that you are right—and show me up. Your heart is bad to my man and to me. You fool my brother to bring you here, and think that is so clever. I am sorry for you, my poor little enemy!"
"You don't mince your words."
"I am frank to your face as you were behind my back when you told Many Horses that my man and I do our conjuring for the presents we get, the ponies."
"I saw a couple of hundred."
"We have three hundred. Take them, all of them. Four ponies will break back here when my love calls them. They are mine. The rest you shall take to the head chief as a gift to the poor of your village."
"Why didn't you do this before?"
"Why should we? Nobody before has doubted us. As you told my brother here, all other men except yourself are horse thieves. Any Indian, as he told you, caught with the sacred herd, would be burned by my people. But, as you are not a horse thief, you are safe. What! surely you are not frightened? You? who are so brave!"
"Because I'm your enemy," said Rising Wolf, "you've set a trap to get me burned!"
"My brother Heap-of-dogs shall ride ahead with my message for the Chief Many Horses. The head chief himself shall send herders to help you. Then you will be praised for the gift you bring to the poor. And you like praise."