horses were gone.

That night there was gloom and dejection around the camp-fires inside
the ring of carts. Some recalled the boy on the war-pony with the
leveled bow; some even whispered that Mr. McIntish had lied to the boy,
but no one dared say that out loud. The factor stormed and damned, but
finally gathered what men he could mount and prepared to follow next
day.

Follow he did, but the buffalo had stamped out the trail, and at last,
baffled and made to go slow by the blinded sign, he gave up the trail,
to hunt for the Chis-chis-chash village, where he would try for justice
at the hands of the head men.

After seven days' journey he struck the carcasses left in the line of
the Indians' march, and soon came up with their camp, which he
entered with appropriate ceremony, followed by his retinue--half-breed
interpreter, Delaware trailers, French horse-herders, and two real
Yellow-Eyed men--white Rocky Mountain trappers.

He sought the head chief, and they all gathered in the council tepee.
There they smoked and passed the pipe. The squaws brought kettles
of buffalo-meat, and the eager youngsters crowded the door until a
camp-soldier stood in the way to bar them back. The subchiefs sat in
bronze calm, with their robes drawn in all dignity about them.

When all was ready, Mr. McIntish stood in the middle of the lodge and
spoke with great warmth and feeling, telling them that Chis-chis-chash
warriors had stolen his horse-herd--that he had traced it to their camp
and demanded its return. He accused them of perfidy, and warned them
that from thence on no more traders would ever come into their country,
but would give their guns to the Absaroke, who would thus be able
to overwhelm them in war. No more would the chiefs drink of the
spring-water they loved so well--no more would a white man pass the pipe
with the Chis-chis-chash if justice was not done; and much more which
elicited only meaningless grunts from the stoic ring of listeners.

When he had finished and sat down, the head chief arose slowly, and
stepping from the folds of his robe, he began slowly to talk, making
many gestures. "If the white chief had tracked the stolen ponies to his
camp, let him come out to the Indian pony-herds and point them out. He
could take his horses."

The face of the trader grew hard as he faced the snare into which the
chief had led him, and the lodge was filled with silence.

The camp-soldier at the entrance was brushed aside,