After he was gone, there was another period of silence. It was so
unusual for Injun to talk at all, and the effort to start him again
having failed, it seemed now to occur to everybody that it probably
would be better to let him alone until he got in the mood again.
Presently Whitey saw Injun's eyes take on their former faraway look, as
though they were gazing into his father's tepee fire, or into the red
faces of his kinsmen.

"What did the White Chief do when he went back?" Whitey asked softly.

"Him go back and get plenty soldiers," responded Injun. "And come get my
mamma's brother, and tie him on pony, with him face looking at pony
tail. My mamma's brother him lose much blood where stick break through
chest. Him almost died when get to Fort. White Chief put him in log
calaboose. Him stay there long, long time; mebbe so twenty, thirty
moons.

"Then him dig dirt in floor with hands, and cover up when they bring him
bread and water--and he hide his hands all the time, fingers so much
bleed. Then when dark and no moon, him dig out last dirt, him come up
outside. Him run sixty mile, him come my father, him tell my father."

"My father he say to our people, 'Now, we fight, and we fight heap!'"

Injun paused for a moment, as one considering and about to utter
judgment. "White man bad. Injun he no bad," he said.

Injun's story was concluded. He rose and walked from the bunk house.

There was a moment's hush broken by Jim Walker. "Who in thunder d'ye