"What would you?" replied the Indian bitterly. "Am I a chief that I should go attended? Do arrows and rifles grow on the prairies?"
The half-breed craftily permitted another impressive but momentary silence to fall.
"But if my brother were to ride with a hundred fighting men; on his own pony; with a rifle in his hand—would not that be more in accord with his dignity as a brave warrior?" he suggested suddenly.
"Where are a hundred such?"
Lafond arose and pulled aside the flap of the tent. The camp lay in the half glow as a flat picture, and its noise burst in through the open doorway like a blare of music. The Indian's expressive eyes flashed comprehension.
"And if they go?" he asked.
"I, too, have enemies," replied Lafond.
Rain-in-the-Face smoked meditatively. If this man held the power to sway thus the policy of the camp, why did he not use it to crush the enemies of whom he had spoken? What added force could a young, unarmed stranger bring him that would compensate for the trouble and expense to which he was putting himself?
Lafond saw the hesitation and dreaded aright.
"My enemies dwell in Pah-sap-pah," said he simply.