Meanwhile the captain and two experienced men rode slowly forward, stopping while still within rifle shot of their friends. The charging savages pulled up suddenly and stopped, three of their number riding ahead with the same unconcern and calm dignity as the white men had shown. One of them raised a hand, palm out, and when well outside of the range of the rifles of the encampment, stopped and waited. Captain Woodson, raising his hand, led his two companions at a slow walk toward the waiting Indians and when he stopped, the two little parties were within easy speaking distance of each other. Each group was careful to show neither distrust nor fear, and apparently neither was armed. Erect in their saddles, each waited for the other to speak. "My young men are angry because the white men and their wagons have crossed the Pawnee country and have frightened away the buffalo," said the leader of the warriors, a chief, through an interpreter. "The buffalo are like the grass of the prairies," replied Woodson. "They are all around us and are bold enough to charge our wagons on the march and frighten our animals." "From the Loup Fork to the Arkansas, from the Big Muddy to the great mountains, is Pawnee country, which none dare enter." "The Cheyennes, the Arapahoes, the Osages, and other brave tribes tell us the same thing. We do not know what tribe owns this prairie; but we do know that friends are always welcome in the Pawnee country, and we bring presents for our brave brothers, presents of beads and colored cloth and glasses that show a man his spirit." "The white chief speaks well; but my braves are angry." "And my young men are angry because they could not sleep and their animals were frightened like the Comanches are frightened by the Pawnees," replied Woodson. "They are hot-headed and are angry at me because I would not let them make war on our friends, the Pawnees." "The young men of the Pawnees have not the wisdom of years and did not know the white men were friends, and had brought them presents of horses and powder and whiskey." "I have told my young men that the Pawnees are friends. We did not think we would meet our red brothers and have horses only for ourselves. Our whiskey and powder are for the great Pawnee chiefs; our beads and cloth for their young men." "It is well," replied the chief. After a moment's silence he looked keenly into Woodson's eyes. "The Pawnees are sad. White Bear and two of our young men have not returned to their people." His eyes flashed and a tenseness seized him and his companions. "Great Eagle wants to know if his white friends have seen them?"