At this, Scar Head ran off, to the river, for his morning swim. When he returned, Chief Charakterik and the American soldier were up and out, too, and surveying the horse. “Do you know where this horse came from?” White Wolf questioned, of his wives. “No. It was here. That is all.” “The man who stole the horse from the Americans has returned it,” declared White Wolf. “Good. Is this the horse you are waiting for?” he asked, of the soldier. The soldier did not understand the words, but he understood the gesture. Now he smiled and replied in his own language――which nobody else understood. But he nodded and pointed to the horse and in the direction of the Americans; and they all understood that. “After you have eaten, you may take the horse and go your way,” White Wolf bade, well satisfied. So the matter seemed to be settled; but somehow, Scar Head did not feel quite happy. The matter was settled too easily. In a few minutes the soldier would go; then all the Americans would be gone, and he himself would have lost them. In fact, he didn’t seem to be getting much out of his scheme, except that he may have saved the soldier’s scalp. Skidi would be angry, too, when he found out that the horse and soldier both had gone. Somebody would suffer――and Scar Head rather foresaw who that somebody might be! Skidi could make things very uncomfortable. But before they were done eating, here came Skidi and several others, of the men, all furious. “There is the horse,” exclaimed Skidi. “And there is the red-haired white man. We are in time.” “What is all this shouting about?” reproved White Wolf. “This is no way to come to a chief’s lodge.” “We come for a horse that has been stolen by that white man,” Skidi boldly retorted. “There it is. We claim it.” “No. The horse belongs to the American chief. His soldier is here to get it. We talked about that yesterday. I will talk no more.” “I will talk, for I am a man,” answered Skidi. “You let the white man eat at your fire and sleep in your lodge, and during the night he steals a horse. Are you a chief, that you close your eyes to such things? We ask for our horse, or else a large present.” “Whose horse is it?” “It is a Pawnee horse, and that is enough.” “The horse was not here last night, but it was here early this morning,” announced White Wolf. “The American did not go out and get it. I am sure of that. If he did, why should he have brought it here, if he had stolen it? He could have easily made off with it, and others. No; the thief who took the horse from the Americans has returned it, as is right. Let the man who claims to own the horse come forward. But I think there is nothing more to be said.” The soldier was sitting, in his stained blue clothes, and gazing around with a good-natured smile on his hairy face; but Scar Head could see that he was thinking fast, and ready to spring for the lodge and his gun. “Are you going to send him away with the horse?”