diplomat ceased and those of warrior began.

Meanwhile his protagonist, the Indian chief, had no doubt at all about
his own intentions and was stating them with a clearness that could not
be mistaken. Captain Kenyon continued to switch his boot uneasily and to
take a nervous step back and forth, his figure outlined against the
fire. Young Clarke felt a certain sympathy for him, placed without
experience in a situation so delicate and so full of peril.

The Ogalala stopped talking and looked straight at the officer, standing
erect and waiting, as if he expected a quick answer, and only the kind
of answer, too, that he wished. Meanwhile there was silence, save for an
occasional crackle of burning wood.

Both young Clarke and the hunter, Boyd, felt with all the intensity of
conviction that it was a moment charged with fate. The white people had
come from the Atlantic to the great plains, but the mighty Sioux nation
now barred the way to the whole Northwest, it was not a barrier to be
passed easily. Will, as he said, understood, too, the feelings of
Mahpeyalute. Had he been an Ogalala like the chief he would have felt
as the Ogalala felt. Yet, whatever happened, he and Boyd meant to go on,
because they had a mission that was calling them all the time.

The Captain at last said a few words, and Red Cloud, who had been
motionless while he waited, took from under his blanket a pipe with a
long curved stem. Will was surprised. He knew something of Indian
custom, but he had not thought that the fierce Ogalala chief would
propose to smoke a pipe of peace at a time like the present. Nor was any
such thought in the mind of Red Cloud. Instead, he suddenly struck the
stem of the pipe across the trunk of a sapling, breaking it in two, and
as the bowl fell upon the ground he put his foot upon it, shattering it.
Then, raising his hand in a salute to Captain Kenyon, he turned upon his
heel and walked away, all the other Indians following him without a
word. At the edge of the thin forest they mounted their ponies and rode
out of sight in the darkness.

Captain Kenyon stood by the fire, gazing thoughtfully into the dying
coals, while the troopers, directed by the sergeants, were spreading the
blankets for the night. Toward the north, where the foothills showed
dimly, a wolf howled. The lone, sinister note seemed to arouse the
officer, who gave some orders to the men and then turned to meet the
hunter and the lad.

"I've no doubt yo