"Better go out t' th' kitchen, an' rustle yourself somep'n'," Bill suggested.
"Wong'll get crazy if I monkey with his grub," objected Henry.
"I'll take care o' Wong. G'wan, you don't wanta be hungry," Bill said.
"I c'd do with some beans an' coffee," Dorgan allowed, and took himself off.
After he was gone, there was another period of silence. It was so unusual for Injun to talk at all, and the effort to start him again having failed, it seemed now to occur to everybody that it probably would be better to let him alone until he got in the mood again. Presently Whitey saw Injun's eyes take on their former faraway look, as though they were gazing into his father's tepee fire, or into the red faces of his kinsmen.
"What did the White Chief do when he went back?" Whitey asked softly.
"Him go back and get plenty soldiers," responded Injun. "And come get my mamma's brother, and tie him on pony, with him face looking at pony tail. My mamma's brother him lose much blood where stick break through chest. Him almost died when get to Fort. White Chief put him in log calaboose. Him stay there long, long time; mebbe so twenty, thirty moons.
"Then him dig dirt in floor with hands, and cover up when they bring him bread and water—and he hide his hands all the time, fingers so much bleed. Then when dark and no moon, him dig out last dirt, him come up outside. Him run sixty mile, him come my father, him tell my father."