ar away to hear the words, as only the officers of the troop were
allowed at the conference, but he knew they were heavy with import, and
the pulses in his temples beat hard and fast.

"Who is the Indian chief?" he said to Boyd, the scout and hunter, who
stood by his side. "He seems to be a man."

"He is," replied Boyd with emphasis. "He's a man, and a great man, too.
That's Red Cloud, the war chief of the Ogalala Sioux, Mahpeyalute, they
call him in their language, one of the bravest warriors that ever lived,
and a thinker, as well. If he'd been born white he'd be governor of a
big state by this time, and later on he might become president of 'em
all."

"I've heard of him. He's one of our most dangerous enemies."

"So he is, Will. It's because he thinks we're going to spread over the
Sioux country--in which he's right--and not because he hates us as men.
I've known him in more peaceful times, and we've done each other good
turns, but under that black hair of his beats a brain that can look far
ahead and plan. He means to close to us the main trail through the Sioux
country, and the Sioux range running halfway across the continent, and
halfway from Canada to Mexico. Mountain and plain alike are theirs."

"I can't keep from having a certain sympathy with him, Jim. It's but
natural that they should want to keep the forests and the great buffalo
ranges."

"I share their feelings, too, though white I am, and to the white people
I belong. I hate to think of the continent ploughed into fields
everywhere, and with a house always in sight. Anyhow, it won't happen in
my time, because in the west here there are so many mountains and the
Sioux and Cheyennes are so warlike that the plough will have a hard time
getting in."

"And the country is so vast, too. But watch Red Cloud. He points to the
west! Now he drops his hand, doubles his fist and stretches his arm
across the way. What does it mean, Jim?"

"It's a gesture telling Captain Kenyon that the road is barred to
soldiers, settlers, hunters, all of us. Far to the south we may still
follow the gold trails to California, but here at the edge of this
mighty wilderness we must turn back. The nations of the Dakota, whom we
call the Sioux, have said so."

Mahpeyalute lowered his arm, which he had thrust as a barrier across the
way, but his fist remained clenched, and raising it he shook it again.
The sun had sunk over the dim mountains in the north and the burning red
ther