The next moment his finger took a great leap, and alighted on Red Eagle’s left hand.
The Indian laughed triumphantly, and opened his hand.
The black stone glittered in the red palm.
The Pale Pawnee could not repress a cry of rage and disappointment.
“Kenoagla wanted the Gold Girl,” said Red Eagle, calmly; “but she has fallen to the lot of the Pawnee. She shall build his fires and warm his couch when the snow comes.”
Tom Kyle bit his nether lip till the blood dyed his chin.
“Would not Red Eagle have been content with the dark flower?”
“Yes.”
“I will give him the dark flower, then, for the gold one.”
The Indian drew back.