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Updated: May 13, 2025
Still they said nothing, only looked at their captive with an aspect that daunted him. "Not dumb, are you? Speak up, some of you," Houck snarled, fighting down the panic within him. A wrinkled old Ute spoke quietly. "Man-with-loud-tongue die. He kill Indian give him no chance. Indians kill him now." Houck nodded his head. "Sure I killed him. He'd stolen my horse, hadn't he?"
The old fellow touched his chest. "Black Arrow my son. You kill him. He take your horse mebbe. You take Ute horse." He pointed to the pinto. "Ute kill Man-with-loud-tongue." "Black Arrow reached for his gun. I had to shoot. It was an even break." Houck's voice pleaded in spite of his resolution not to weaken.
They were leading a horse with a rope around its neck. Houck recognized the animal with a thrill of superstitious terror. It was the one about the possession of which he had shot Black Arrow. The old chief spoke again. "Man-with-loud-tongue claim this horse. Utes give it him. Horse his. Man-with-loud-tongue satisfied then maybe." "What are you aimin' to do, you red devils?" Houck shouted.
The spokesman for the Indians still showed an impassive face, but his voice was scornful. "Is Man-with-loud-tongue a yellow coyote? Does he carry the heart of a squaw? Will he cry like a pappoose?" Houck's salient jaw jutted out. The man was a mass of vanity. Moreover, he was game. "Who told you I was yellow? Where did you get that? I ain't scared of all the damned Utes that ever came outa hell."
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