Part 26 (2/2)

”Bright Sun,” he said, ”it was you, our guide, who led the train into the pa.s.s that all might be killed?”

Bright Sun shrugged his shoulders, but a spark leaped from his eyes.

”What would you ask of me?” he replied. ”In your code it was cunning, but the few and small must fight with cunning. The little man, to confront the big man, needs the advantage of weapons. The Sioux make the last stand for the Indian race, and we strike when and where we can.”

The conscience of the chief was clear, so far as d.i.c.k could see, and there was nothing that he could say in reply. It was Bright Sun himself who resumed:

”But I spared you and your brother. I did that which caused you to be absent when the others were slain.”

”Why?”

”Because you were different. You were not like the others. It may be that I pitied you, and it may be also that I like you--a little--and--you were young.”

The man's face bore no more expression than carven oak, but d.i.c.k was grateful.

”I thank you, Bright Sun,” he said, ”and I know that Albert thanks you, too.”

Bright sun nodded, and then fixed an intent gaze upon d.i.c.k.

”You and your brother escaped,” he said. ”That was nearly two years ago, and you have not gone back to your people. Where have you been?”

d.i.c.k saw a deep curiosity lurking behind the intent gaze, but whatever he might owe to Bright Sun, he had no intention of gratifying it.

”Would you tell me where you have been in the last two years and all that you have done?” the chief asked.

”I cannot answer; but you see that we have lived, Albert and I,”

d.i.c.k replied.

”And that you have learned the virtues of silence,” said Bright Sun. ”I ask you no more about it to-day. Give me your word for the present that you will not try to escape, and your life and that of your brother will be the easier. It would be useless, anyhow, for you to make such an attempt. When you feel that you have a chance, you can withdraw your promise.”

d.i.c.k laughed, and the laugh was one of genuine good humor.

”That's certainly fair,” he said. ”Since I can't escape, I might as well give my promise not to try it for the time being. Well, I give it.”

Bright Sun nodded gravely.

”Your brother will come in soon,” he said. ”He has already given his promise, that is, a conditional one, good until he can confer with you.”

”I'll confirm it,” said d.i.c.k.

Bright Sun saluted and left the great lodge. Some warriors near the door moved aside with the greatest deference to let him pa.s.s. d.i.c.k lay on his rush mat, gazing after him, and deeply impressed.

When Bright Sun was gone he examined the lodge again. It was obvious that it was a great common hall or barracks for warriors, and Bright Sun's simile of the Spartans was correct. More warriors came in, all splendid, athletic young men of a high and confident bearing. A few were dressed in the white man's costume, but most of them were in blankets, leggings, and moccasins, and had magnificent rows of feathers in their hair.

Every man carried a carbine, and most of them had revolvers also. Such were the Akitcita or chosen band, and in this village of about two hundred lodges they numbered sixty men. d.i.c.k did not know then that in times of peace all guests, whether white or red, were entertained in the lodge of the Akitcita.

Impressed as he had been by Bright Sun, he was impressed also by these warriors. Not one of them spoke to him or annoyed him in any manner. They went about their tasks, cleaning and polis.h.i.+ng their weapons, or sitting on rough wooden benches, smoking pipes with a certain dignity that belonged to men of strength and courage. All around the lodge were rush mats, on which they slept, and near the door was a carved totem pole.

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