When Standing Bull broke his silence, it was at the evening camp after a stiff day of marching. Overhead was lowering storm, with pines and cedars all amoan in the darkness. Crawford had lost all sense of direction, had not glimpsed a soul outside their own party, and had no idea of his whereabouts; but about noon he had seen two signal smokes to their right, and was not blind to the angry nervousness of the red men. And Standing Bull, having come to the point of speech, delivered a word that was blunt enough. “Let my brothers open their ears,” he said abruptly. “We have helped them; without our aid the Stone Men would have danced their scalps. We have done as we promised. If Wandering Star had killed the Red Bull, the Stone Men would not now be on our trail.” Crawford shrugged. Standing Bull gravely continued. “Among the hills at the sacred lake of many stars, lives the Star Woman. She has spent the winter there with five lodges of my young men, who seek medicine before being admitted to the brotherhoods. Here is the lake,” and to represent it, he drew a circle in the snow. “That lies half a moon’s journey from this place.” To indicate their present position, he drew a cross, orientating the diagram. “The Spirit Lake, where my brothers came to meet us, lies here.” He completed his map with a black cinder, which formed a rude triangle with the other points. This mute witness in the snow spoke eloquently enough. Crawford saw that instead of heading straight from the Spirit Lake to the Star Woman, they had come far to the south. The reason for this circumlocution was now shown by a flint which the chief took from his French firebag and laid down--the flint standing for the Assiniboines or Stone Men, who had driven the party well off their direct course. “Death of my life, but he should be royal cartographer!” exclaimed Frontin admiringly. “I thought that accursed Maclish was a tricky rogue. When he agreed to take us to the Spirit Lake with ten men, the sly fox tricked us--he brought down the whole pack of Assiniboines on our heels!” Crawford nodded, and caught an assenting gleam in the eyes of the chief. Standing Bull resumed his exposition of affairs, and swept a brown finger in the snow, well to the southward. “Here is the country of The Men. The Spirit Woman lives far from us; she is a friend of all people, and many tribes send to her for healing or counsel. I have spent the winter in her lodge with my young men, hunting for her needs and trapping castor for the French posts. Now I must go to her swiftly with Old Bear, here,” and he indicated the third Dacotah, who was a young man despite his name. “The trail must now be forked in three ways. I go ahead with Old Bear, because my brothers cannot travel fast. Here to the south must go Yellow Sky, seeking the villages of my people, to bring a war-party against the Stone Men.” “Oh!” Crawford perceived that he and Frontin were abandoned. “And what about us?”