moment before he replied, after which he
remarked quietly, and with a peculiar inflection of tone that added deep
meaning to his words, while at the same time it betrayed the fact that
there was some curious reason to account for this confidence--

"Dacotahs fools. They think white brothers spirits--_evil_ spirits. They
have not the eyes of Thunder-maker."

"I see," said Arnold thoughtfully. "But you forget, Thunder-maker, that
your trickery with the snakes helped them to that opinion."

Once more the Medicine Man laughed quietly in a manner that irritated
his hearers, and Holden broke in roughly--

"Come now, you old cheat, explain yourself! _You_ didn't believe as the
rest of your people did. And if not, why did you behave in such a double
way? Out with it. You had some purpose in coming here to-night, and you
may as well give us the truth right away."

It is not possible to hasten an Indian in the matter of speech. Hasty
response or rapid talk they deem discourteous. Thunder-maker was no
exception to his race in this respect, but he was exceptional in
another, inasmuch as when bent on a subject he stuck to it without using
many unnecessary words or ornaments of speech. He waited in thoughtful
silence for several minutes. Possibly in his cunning way he was mentally
scrutinising the peculiarities of his companions in the teepee--deciding
what course would be best to enable him to be assured of their trust.
Whether or not he judged their characteristics correctly will be seen
later.

"My white brother has asked for the truth," the Indian began.
"Thunder-maker shall speak words as straight as the path of a burning
arrow.

"Many years ago--when the buffalo lived upon the prairie to feed the
redman and provide his robes--the great tribe of Dacotahs would hunt in
the valley that is known even to-day as the Peace Camp. Many deer would
feed there, and the buffalo would eat the blue grass, and Manito had
filled the camp with fruit and flowers. In those days the Dacotahs were
ruled by a mighty warrior, Flying Cloud--the son of the fiery totem
serpent that saved his life by slaying the chief of the Chippeways in
the war-path by night."

Here the speaker paused, as though he expected some comment from the
listeners regarding the seeming miracle. But no remark being
forthcoming, he resumed--

"For many years our tribe lived in prosperity. Pemmican was in plenty,
and the redmen kept the hunting-grounds in peace. Then--on