Jesse began parleying to gain time. He first wanted to know if the chief was alone, which fact was all-important to him in his present predicament. "Great Bear go away," he called down gently. "Great Spirit up here in tree," he crooned with subtle cunning. "No, no!" protested the chief, "Great Spirit not for pale face. Great Spirit stay Indian." The great desperado fingered his guns nervously. It required all the self control he could impose upon himself to refrain from shooting the redskin, where he stood in plain view of the man up the tree. It was a terrible temptation, but the bandit-chieftain resented it manfully. "All right, old moccasin foot, we'll see about that later!" Great Bear, he realized had been a witness to his brush with the cavalry troops; but with a cunning characteristic of the savage that he was, had viewed it with keener eyes than had the officers of the troop. "Um Jess Jame come down," grunted the chief. "Jesse James will come down when he gets good and ready, you greasy old cutthroat," he jeered. "Great Bear had better look out or my men will shoot him in the back. Do you think I'd let you stand there making threats at me all this time without killing you, if I hadn't known my men had you covered. You are not half so smart as you think you are, eh?" The old chief did not change his position in the least. But meanwhile Jesse was cautiously making his way down the trunk of the tree, yet in doing so not so much as displacing the smallest particle of dry bark whose falling would warn the savage of his approach. "Ugh," grunted the chief. "Ugh it yourself," threw back the desperado. "Um lie. Great Bear um know Jess Jame. No paleface get Great Bear. Paleface all gone. Indians here--Great Spirit here. Indian in bush--many Indian in bush there," indicating a half circle by a sweep of his hand. "Ah," exclaimed the desperado. Jesse had drawn from the big chief the very information he was seeking. He knew now that the savage was alone. "When an Indian tells you a thing is so, you know it isn't," was Jesse's motto and it was the one he applied to the present case. Still, he dared not use his guns. Great Bear, perhaps, following the same process of reasoning, stood confidently awaiting the moment when the desperado should find it convenient to move. "Pale face no jump. Um fall down big hole like pinto," he warned. "Don't worry, my sweet papoose," jeered the outlaw. "Jesse James don't jump down holes, nor does he run away. But he's going to kill an Indian bye and bye, when he gets down. But paleface going to stay up here till Big chief gets sore feet waiting for him. Good night, you old dog-eater." The great desperado laughed and chuckled, all with a purpose, but not so loudly at any time that his voice could easily be heard beyond the circle of shadow thrown by the great tree. "Ugh. Pale face, dog--" retorted the savage. But he got no further.