"The white chief has but one," said Matthews, and tapped his own chest. A silence followed. "The journey begins when the sun is little," he added, and sat down. "Will not the white chief wait until spring?" asked Lame Foot, whose guile made up for his physical defect. The others studied Colonel Cummings' face as the question was put to him. They saw the purpose--postponement, which might bring freedom for them, and also a retention of the captive women. The colonel's answer did not need interpreting. "No!" he said, and struck his knees with his open palms. "Why should two squaws matter?" asked Shoot-at-the-Tree. "Are there not many everywhere? We will give the white chief some of our ponies." "Your ponies floated, belly up, down the river moons ago," said Matthews. Twenty pairs of eyes sparkled with hate. That was news indeed! Lame Foot spoke again. There was a mathematical phase of the terms which troubled him. "Why should four die for two?" he demanded. "Among the whites, has a squaw the value of two soldiers?" Matthews answered gravely that it was so. The brave snorted contemptuously. Canada John shook his head. "Thus comes much evil because we shot the pinto buffalo." At that point, the hoof-sheaths that trimmed a rope near the entrance rattled. The semicircle craned their necks. A plump hand was pulling aside the flap of the lodge. Then, through the low aperture and into the light of the fire stepped an Indian woman. She flung back a head-shawl and faced red man and white. A murmur came from the braves. It was Brown Mink. As with the men of the band, plentiful food and no exercise had worked wonders with her. She was less slender and more solid than formerly. Her full cheeks shone like the bulging sides of a copper kettle. But her spirit was little changed. She waited no invitation to speak. She paused for no words. In her earnestness, she leaned forward a little. "Brown Mink is young," she said. "She is but an unfledged crane walking in strange waters. But she speaks with the voice of her father, your mighty chief that was. Canada John talks straight. One of a double tongue must go. The white chief is very angry, so that he plucks the hairs from his hands. The squaws must be brought back, or four braves will be choked by ropes. But who can make things smooth? Only The Double-Tongue. Promise him much--promise to help him drive the thief from his land." Matthews straightened up. She put out one arm and measured a small length upon it. "When our warriors come, thus short a space will it take to rid the land," she said. And was gone before any could answer. There was a long "Ho-o-o!" of assent. "What's this all about?" asked Colonel Cummings. "She wants me t' go," said Matthews. "Well, so do I." The Indians conferred among themselves. Suddenly, as if they had reached a decision, they fell silent and settled back. Lame Foot spoke.