From that day forward he was To-la-go-to-de, or "the chief that fights with two knives." Any name he may have been known by before that was at once dropped and forgotten.
It is a noteworthy custom, but the English have something almost exactly like it. A man in England may be plain Mr. Smith or Mr. Disraeli for ever so many years, and then all of a sudden he becomes Lord So-and-So, and nobody ever speaks of him again by the name he carried when he was a mere "young brave." It is a great mistake to suppose the red men are altogether different from the white.
As for Steve, his hair was nearer chestnut than yellow, but it had given him his Indian name—one that would stick to him until, like To-la-go-to-de, he should distinguish himself in battle, and win a "war name" of his own.
He and Murray, however they might be regarded as members of the tribe and of that war party, had no rights in the "council." Only born Lipans could take part in that, except by special invitation.
It happened, on the present occasion, that they were both glad of it, for "No Tongue" had more than usual to say, and "Yellow Head" was very anxious to listen to him.
"That peak yonder would be an awful climb, Steve."
"I should say it would."
"But if you and I were up there, I'll tell you what we could do. We could look north and east into New Mexico, north and west into Arizona, and south, every way, into Mexico itself."
"Are we so near the border?"
"I think we are."