"Mebbe now dere is troubles," he uttered, as he sat toasting his shins at the fire in the Patrick Gass cabin. He had entered with a gay "Bon soir (good evening), messieurs," and had brought a draft of icy air with him. "Mebbe now dere is troubles."
"What's the matter, Toussaint?"
"I interpret for ze Black Cat an' ze captains. Ze Black Cat say ze Sioux dey much enrage', 'cause ze 'Rees make ze peace with ze Mandan. Dey sen' ze word dat someday dey come up an' take ze scalp of all ze 'Ree an' ze Mandan an' ze white soldier. Dey sorry dey did not kill ze white soldier down-river, for ze white soldier carry bad talk. Black Cat fear. He fear mebbe ze 'Ree get scare' an' help ze Sioux, an' he been tol', too, dat ze white soldiers build strong fort, to stay an' try to make slaves of ze Mandan, an' soon ze whole country he be Sioux."
"That sounds like the British," remarked George Shannon. "They naturally don't want the United States in here, taking away their trade. They'd like to have us driven out."
"An' what did the captains say?" inquired Patrick Gass.
"Dey say Black Cat must not open hees ears to such talk," answered Toussaint. "Ze United States speak only truth, an' if ze Mandan listen ze white soldiers will protec' dem 'gainst all deir enemies. Black Cat say dere been a council held, on ze matter, an' ze Mandan will wait an' see."
