Dick laughed softly.
“That is only because you are happy now, while before you had a heavy load on your mind. As none of us can understand crow talk we must let it go by. See how they rise in the air when they glimpse us. Wary old rascals that they are, they scent danger a mile off.”
“And, as we must be getting near the big water now,” interposed Mayhew, “it may be just as well that we forego talking except in whispers. There can be no telling about those crafty Blackfeet; some of them may be roving around, on the lookout for meat, and spy us. Leave it all to the chief, and let us copy everything they do, so as to show Beaver Tail we have handed the whole job over to him.”
After that not a word passed between the three comrades above their breath, as they moved along in company with the dusky crew.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE CAMP ON THE BIG WATER
“There is the big water, Dick!” said Roger, in the ear of his cousin, as he chanced to peer through a narrow opening in the dense woods beyond.
“And the chief has called a halt, which looks as though we were not to go any further just now,” Dick added.
They could catch a glimpse of what looked like an inland sea. The wind was raising whitecaps on the tops of the waves, as they rolled past toward the south. As far as the eye could reach the same broad expanse of clear crystal water lay. The Indians did well to call it the “big water,” though to-day it is marked on the map as Yellowstone Lake.