This was a staggerer, but Vipan was equal to it. "They were not," he said. "Only the leader and his household. For the rest, they bore me as little love as they do the Dahcotah warriors who ran off their horses and cattle. Listen now, and mark." Then he graphically narrated the circumstances under which he had warned Winthrop's outfit of the lurking war-party, making it appear that his warning had been due simply and solely to his recognition of his fellow-countrymen among the travellers. Not a muscle of Sitting Bull's crafty countenance moved as he listened. "How!" he said, quietly, when the speaker ceased. "Did not Golden Face declare that he owned no nationality?" This was another staggerer, and a more serious one than before. But Vipan's imperturbability was of a quality warranted to stand shocks. Inwardly he laughed over the other's shrewdness in bringing up his own words in judgment against him. That was true, he replied. But apart from the fact of that particular white man being his fellow-countryman, and therefore one against whom the Dahcotah nation had no quarrel, he was the son of a man who had once rendered him a most important service. Who worthy of the name and dignity of a warrior ever forgot to requite a good turn once rendered, even at the peril of his life? This answer, if not altogether received as gospel by his hearers, sent him up ten per cent, in their estimation. Nowhere is diplomatic talent and readiness in debate held in such high respect as among savage races. "The white girl who hunted with Golden Face is very beautiful," went on Sitting Bull. "Was it for her he lifted his rifle against his Dahcotah brethren?" "Who would not fight for a beautiful woman, be she white or red?" answered Vipan, with a burst of well-timed frankness. "Sitting Bull is a great chief, let him judge if my words are straight. Did War Wolf and his followers come to me as to a friend? No; they attacked me as enemies. Then when they treated me as an enemy and an ordinary prisoner of war, did I complain? Sitting Bull is a great chief, a warrior of renown, but who is War Wolf? Who is he, I say? Enough: I have smoked in council with Red Cloud and the chiefs of the Dahcotah nation. My words are for the ears of chiefs, not for those of boys, who passed the Sun-dance but yesterday." The ghost of a smile flitted across Sitting Bull's grim features at this reply, while a murmur of approbation escaped the other two auditors. No one understood better than the speaker the advantage of making the most of himself among these people, nor was the dexterous compliment to his own eminence thrown away upon the bold and sagacious warrior who had, so to say, risen from the ranks. "But," rejoined the latter, "if the white girl was of the race of King George, with whom we have no quarrel, why did not Golden Face bring her among his Dahcotah brethren, where he might have lived with her in peace and safety?"