"The American chief has lost a horse," he announced. "The horse must be brought back, or we shall have a bad name with our American father."
"If the American chief has lost a horse, let him promise a present and maybe it will be found," answered Skidi.
"That is no way to talk," Charakterik rebuked. "I want the horse brought to me; then we will see about the present."
"The present is here already," laughed Skidi. "It is in your lodge. The American chief would have done better to lose all his horses and say nothing, for a red scalp is big medicine."
And all the warriors laughed.
Inside the lodge the American soldier grinned at Scar Head. Scar Head grinned back.
"Hello," said the soldier.
Scar Head had heard that word several times. Now he blurted it, himself.
"H'lo."
This was the end of the conversation, but Scar Head did a lot of thinking. He well knew where the horse was. Skidi had stolen it and hidden it out, and boasted of his feat. Now Skidi was talking of keeping the red-hair. That did not seem right. The Americans were brave. If somebody—a boy—*
