“We will do all that we can for you,” was the evasive reply; “but remember that we are all in the power of these men, and that we have to be careful not to give them further offense, for the sake of the women, if not for our own.” The wretched man sighed, and looked over into the blue waters of the lake, as if he were tempted to throw himself into their calm depths and thus end his woes. But watchful eyes were upon him and active hands would have defeated any such attempt. Running Water made no objection to Buffalo Bill and his companions returning with them to the village. He said, indeed, that they would be quite welcome, and would be at liberty to depart whenever they chose; but he warned them that they must not attempt to interfere in any way with the course of justice, or he would not be answerable for the consequences. Of course the chief did not use exactly this language, but he contrived by words and signs to express himself in that way. Running Water, who had waited with perfect composure and patience while the white men were discussing among themselves, now began the signal for starting to his own men. The little fleet of canoes began to glide swiftly forward in the direction of the Indian village, followed more leisurely by the heavier boats of the white party, which was soon left far behind, and to which the prisoner continued to look eagerly back. He feared, indeed, that his friends, finding themselves so entirely at liberty, might change their minds and desert him, after all. This fear of his, indeed, was not by any means unreasonable or without justification. When the Indian canoes had got some distance ahead, one of the men in the white party stopped rowing at his oar, and said: “What’s the use of going on? We can’t save that poor fellow, and we shall only run ourselves into danger, and the women, too.” “We can’t abandon him now,” replied Cody. “We gave him our promise and we can’t go back on it. We should be disgraced for life if we did.” “It’s no use for us to indulge in any hope, or to promise what we cannot do--and shall not attempt,” was the blunt retort. “We certainly shall attempt it,” said Cody, with a dangerous gleam in his eye, as he drew out of his belt one of the few pistols possessed by the party, which had been confided to his care. He did not level it at the man, but the latter read his meaning plainly enough, and quailed visibly. “We must stand by our own comrade to the last,” Buffalo Bill went on quietly. “Pick up that oar and go on rowing.” The man obeyed without a word. CHAPTER XXXV. A TALK FOR A LIFE. It was after sunset when the white party reached the Indian village, where the red men had preceded them with their prisoner, and the former had not the opportunity of witnessing the first reception of the mournful news by the women and children of the tribe.