“Yes. It is just possible, you see, that the stronger party forced the weaker to give up the girls to them, under threat of attack in case they refused to do so. The chances are against that having happened, but still it is a possibility.” “Could you not divide our party and follow both trails?” “No. I am afraid that is out of the question. We have few enough men, in all conscience, to attack the Shawnees, and we could do nothing against the stronger party. If we divided our force we would be helpless against either when we caught up with them. We must take our choice which we will pursue.” “I can’t speak as an authority,” said Mainwaring, “but, if I may offer an opinion, I would favor going after Evil Heart’s band. We know he has the girls--or, at least, that he had them; and the chances are that he would not give them up without a fight.” “That is just my way of looking at the matter,” agreed Buffalo Bill. “But let us hear what the others have to say. It is such a dubious question that it ought to be decided by the general voice.” The king of the scouts called Wild Bill, Nick Wharton, and several of the most experienced scouts and Pawnees around him. With one exception, they were all in favor of keeping on after the original band they had been pursuing. The exception was an old Pawnee warrior named Dead Eye. “Ugh!” this veteran grunted. “What for other Injuns ride after Evil Heart? What for they make him stop and hold palaver? They not do it for nothing. They took no scalps. What else they take? White squaws!” Having delivered himself of this opinion, in opposition to all the others who had spoken, the old brave sat stolidly on his horse, as if the matter had no further concern for him. Indeed, it had not. He was quite willing to follow either party, for there would be a fine fight at the end of the chase and a rich harvest of scalps--both of which things would satisfy his savage nature. Buffalo Bill looked at him undecidedly. “How many summers is it since you followed your first war trail and took your first scalp, Dead Eye?” he asked. Dead Eye made no reply in words, but he held up the fingers of both hands five times. He had been a full-fledged warrior for fifty years. “And how many scalps have you taken?” Dead Eye handed his tomahawk to Buffalo Bill without a word. The border king examined it with curious interest. It was covered with small notches from the blade to the end of the helve. Each notch, of course, stood for a scalp taken. “All braves!” grunted Dead Eye. “Me no kill women or children.” Here was a man, thought Buffalo Bill, whose opinion was worth taking. “We will go after the larger party,” he said. But Dead Eye interposed. “You no do that,” he said. “You have called council. All but me say go after Evil Heart. You must do that. How Dead Eye feel if other band no have girls and you follow it?”