Then followed a good deal of what, for want of a better word, we will call "dark" talking. Sitting Bull in a series of highly diplomatic hints, and using much figurative language, strove to sound his prisoner as to the probability of the British being induced to espouse his people's cause in the event of the coming campaign ending disastrously to them. Vipan, ever mindful of his precarious position as in fact a prisoner, though treated outwardly as a guest, answered cautiously, and to the effect that although the British would be to the last degree unlikely actively to interfere in their favour, yet it would be fatally imprudent to commit any act tending to incur the hostility of the great and mighty Power who occupied the northern boundary line of their country, and whose territory, indeed, might yet serve them as a refuge in time of need, for who could foretell the chances of war? At the same time he threw out more than one dexterous hint as to the services he himself might be able to render his Dahcotah brethren in the event of any such lamentable contingency. Judging that enough had been said for the present, Sitting Bull arose. "It is well," he said, throwing his blanket round his shoulders, as he prepared to depart. "The counsels of Golden Face are always good to listen to. His presence is very welcome to his red brethren." Judging the moment a favourable one, Vipan delicately hinted that so welcome a guest should not be treated in a manner unworthy the dignity of a warrior--in a word, that his weapons should be restored to him. Again that ghost of a smile crossed the face of the wily chieftain. "No one could mistake Golden Face for anything but a warrior," he said, sweetly. "Is he not surrounded by his friends, his brothers? Who requires to go armed among his friends?" There was nothing for it but to accept the position, and, moreover, to accept it with a good grace. Suddenly there arose a terrific din outside--shrieks and yells, shouts of demoniac laughter, and the trampling of many feet. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Note 1. General George A. Custer, who fell into an ambuscade on the Little Bighorn river, and perished with his entire command at the hands of the hostile Sioux, under Sitting Bull, on the 25th June, 1876. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR. THE TWO VICTIMS. If ever a spectacle of hell let loose was vouchsafed to mortal eye, assuredly it must have borne a strong family likeness to that presented by the Indian village, as Vipan and the three chiefs stepped gravely outside the _teepe_ to see what was going on.