While Frontin smoked in turn, then handed the pipe back, Maclish sat waiting, intent and narrow-eyed, fully aware by this time of his own impotence. The pipe was refused him, and he knew what this meant. It was doubtful if the Stone Men were yet aware that the three whites had gone to the islet. Maclish would be in sharp jeopardy unless he were careful, so the burly Scot bottled up his anger and settled down to play his game. Laying aside the pipe, Standing Bull now came to his feet. He put a hand beneath his robe and produced a belt of ordinary porcelain trade-beads, which he dropped at the feet of Maclish. “This belt,” he began, “says that the Star Woman has heard of your search for her. It says that her manitou does not love Englishmen, who are allies of the Iroquois and enemies of our father Onontio at Montreal.” Standing Bull produced a second belt of the same material, turned to the circle of dead men, and laid that belt across the knees of the Assiniboine chieftain, whom he addressed. “This second belt is for the Stone Men; let their eyes look upon it, let their ears be opened to it! It says that their manitou is bad, and therefore the Star Woman has punished them. It says that they have done wrong to befriend the English, for the Dacotah people have a French father.” Now, turning back to Maclish, Standing Bull produced a third belt--not of white porcelain this time, but a flaming crimson belt of valuable wampum shells, which he dropped before the Scot. “This third belt is for you, Red Bull. It says: ‘You cannot go farther; the trail is closed against you. The Star Woman knows your people for bad men and does not desire to look upon your face. Go back. If you come farther your scalp will be dried in the lodges of The Men, your skin will be stretched on the bark wall of the council house; your _manzakawan_, your iron tube in which dwells a spirit, will sit in the lodge of the Star Woman above the lake of many stars, and will spit no more bullets.’ I have spoken.” Standing Bull seated himself and drew his robe about his knees. For a long moment, Maclish was absolutely beyond words with torrential fury. He saw now that he had been tricked into receiving these belts, which had been meant for Crawford. More, the Dacotah were openly hostile to him and friendly to Crawford, while he himself was trapped and helpless on this islet. A slight stir among the rocks betokened that at least one other redskin lay hidden. His red features whitened and became almost livid, then crimsoned again. His breath came hoarsely. Yet he tried to master himself, his big bearded jaw jutting forth, his hands clenched until the knuckles showed white. The effort succeeded.