hief--Iron Hand. I know his father. These three are alone.
Eight of them went out after buffalo five days ago. The second day
they fell in with Turkey Leg and a Cheyenne war party. Two of Iron
Hand's warriors were killed. The rest got separated and these three
lost their horses. Iron Hand," Scott nodded toward the silent Indian,
"was hit in the arm, and with his squaw and her sister has been trying
to get north, hiding by day and travelling by night. He can't shoot
his rifle; he thinks his arm is broken; and the squaws haven't been
able to kill anything. They are hungry, I guess."

"And did they tell you all this in those few words?" demanded Bucks
incredulously.

"It doesn't take many words to tell stories in this country. If a man
talked much he would be dead and buried before he got through."

"Bob, if they are hungry, give them some antelope."

Scott, who had meant to suggest the same thing, was pleased that the
offer should come from his companion, and so told the wounded Indian.
The latter drew himself up with dignity and spoke a few rapid words.
"He says he is glad," translated Bob, "that your heart is big. And
that it will be safer to go farther into the canyon. The Cheyennes are
hunting for them all around here, and if you are not afraid to camp
with the Sioux, we will stay with them here to-night. While the
Cheyennes are hunting them, they might find us. It will be about the
safest thing we can do."

"You know best," said his companion. "Can you trust this man?"

"Trust him?" echoed Bob mildly. "I wish I could trust the word of a
white man half as far as I can that of a Sioux. He understands
everything you say."

"Can he talk English?" asked Bucks in surprise.

"Better than I can."

It was with queer sensations that Bucks found himself in a hostile
country and with the deadliest enemies of the white man going into
camp for the night. Within a minute or two after Scott and the wounded
brave had picked a defended camp near a rivulet of water, the two
squaws had a fire going, and they set to work at once dressing an
antelope.

Savory morsels were cut from choice spots on the carcasses and these
were broiled by impaling them on long sticks over the fire. Bucks,
learning very fast with his eyes, saw how surprisingly small an affair
an Indian camp-fire is, and how much could be done with a few buffalo
chips, if one understood how to keep them renewed. Both safety and
convenience were served by the tiny