"Matthews," began Lounsbury, "you might as well go along. If you stay, you can't get a hold o' that claim." He looked at the colonel's clock. "It's midnight. Your six months are up. If you did have a chance, it's gone. Possession's nine points in law, and Lancaster's up at Bismarck nailing the tenth." If the storekeeper's blunt assertions were of any particular interest to the other, he failed to show it. He occupied himself with finding a cigar, cutting it carefully, and lighting it at the stove. Then he turned about to Colonel Cummings, his glance, as it travelled, utterly ignoring Lounsbury. "Not to mention the risks you run with the boys," added the storekeeper easily, amused by the play of indifference. "Oh, I guess Shanty Town can take keer of itself," observed Matthews, sending up smoke rings. Lounsbury walked out. There was but one thing left for Colonel Cummings to do: Ask this man to interpret in the Medicine Lodge, that at least the Indians might learn their position. Knowing it, they might be prevailed upon to select one of their own number to accompany the expedition and repeat the terms. The commanding officer, rather provoked at Lounsbury, who, he thought, had harmed, and not helped, his cause, immediately suggested this course to Matthews. "I can parley-voo for you there, all right," agreed Matthews, patronisingly. "But how you goin'?" "You and I, alone." Matthews stared. "Carry any guns?" he asked. "Not when I go into the stockade. The Indians are without weapons. And I like to show them that I trust them." The other laughed. "You go t' tell some redskins that they's goin' t' be strung up, and y' don't take no gun. Well! not for _me_, Colonel!" "Then, we'll have a guard." "O. K. I'm with you." A scout who understood the sign language was despatched to the stockade. And by the time the braves were settled down before the blaze, Colonel Cummings, Matthews, and a detail of armed men were before the aperture of the Medicine Lodge. The soldiers waited outside the big wigwam, where they made themselves comfortable by moving up and down. Their commanding officer and the interpreter went in. At their appearance, the warriors rose gravely, shook hands, and motioned the white men to take seats upon a robe placed at Lame Foot's left hand. The air in the place was already beginning to thicken with kinnikinick and fire smoke; the mingled smell of tobacco and skins made it nauseating. Colonel Cummings would gladly have hurried his errand. But Indian etiquette forbade haste. He was forced to contain himself and let the council proceed with customary and exasperating slowness.