Sergeant Pat conducting the double file of men, and York toiling behind, Peter trotted at the heels of York.
York glanced over his shoulder, and grunted.
"Huh! 'Spec' you think you gwine to help carry Marse Will's scalps."
The ice was firm and snow-covered. Captain Clark led straight across. No sounds except the barking of dogs issued from the site of the Big White village, above. The Sioux had not yet attacked. Not an Indian was to be seen; in the distance before, the smoke from the lodges streamed in the wind. The captain made a half circuit of the village, and entered it on a sudden, from the land side. At the approach of the little company the Mandan dogs barked furiously—women screamed—the village seemed to be alarmed; but Chief Big White, and Chief O-hee-naw, a captive Cheyenne, and Chief Sho-ta-haw-ro-ra or Coal, issued to see what was the matter.
"We have come to protect our friends the Mandans," announced Captain Clark.
"The Red Head chief is welcome," bade Big White, breathless—for he was rather fat. His hair, pure white, bushed out all around his head. "Let my brothers come to the council lodge."
Peter had done well to stick by York; for York was Great Medicine, and of course was gladly admitted into a council. Peter sidled in beside him. If he had tried to get in alone, the chiefs would have ordered him out. Councils were no places for boys.
