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Updated: June 4, 2025
Chief Onawata he mak' more talk talk all night then go sleep. We get him morning." Cameron thought swiftly. "I think you are right, Jerry. Now you get back quick for the men and come to me here in the morning. We must not spoil the chance of capturing this old devil. He will have these Indians worked up into rebellion before we know where we are."
"Crowfoot," he said solemnly, "this day Onawata was in this camp and spoke with you. Wait!" he said, putting up his hand as the old Chief was about to speak. "This evening he rode away with Running Stream, Red Crow, Trotting Wolf. The Sioux for many days has been leading about your young men like dogs on a string.
Cameron caught the swift quiver in the face that told that his stab had reached the quick. There is nothing in the Indian's catalogue of crimes so base as the sin of ingratitude. "Onawata beeg Chief beeg Chief," at length the boy said proudly. "He do beeg beeg t'ing." "Yes, he steals my cattle," said Cameron with stinging scorn. "No!" replied the Indian sharply.
The young man again swept the room with his arm. "Bah! Eagle Feather is no good. He is an old squaw," said Cameron. "Huh!" agreed the Indian quickly. "Little Thunder go too." "Little Thunder, eh?" said Cameron, controlling his voice with an effort. The lad nodded, his piercing eye upon Cameron's face. For some minutes Cameron smoked quietly. "And Onawata?"
With startling suddenness he shot out the question. Not a line of the Indian's face moved. He ignored the question, smoking steadily and looking before him. "Ah, it is a strange way for Onawata to repay the white man's kindness to his son," said Cameron. The contemptuous voice pierced the Indian's armor of impassivity.
It was Chief Onawata himself that found the solution. "Me no thief. Me no steal horse. Me Big Chief. Me go to your Fort. My heart clean. Me see your Big Chief." He uttered these words with an air of quiet but impressive dignity. "That's sensible," said the Inspector, moving toward him. "You will get full justice. Come along!" "I go see my boy. My boy sick."
Onawata is a great fighter!" smiled Cameron, enjoying to the full the humiliation of his enemy. Slowly the Indian gathered himself together. He was no coward and he was by no means beaten as yet, but this kind of fighting was new to him. He apparently determined to avoid those hammering fists of the white man.
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