"Hello, little sneak," greeted Skidi, of Scar Head.
"Hello, thief," Scar Head boldly answered. "You are the sneak. You give with one hand and take back with the other."
"You talk big," sneered Skidi. "Once you were a chief's son; now you are nothing. When I catch you, some day, you will be less than nothing."
"Why don't you catch me now?" Scar Head retorted. "I am with the Americans. I am not afraid of you."
"You are not worth the trouble. We are hunting meat. The Padoucah can have you and those Osages. They and the Spanish will eat you all, for us, and save us the bother. If we did not believe that, we would never have let the Americans come even this far."
It appeared to be true that the Pawnees were hunting, and not bent upon war. Iskatappe had brought Chief Pike a present of bear meat, to wipe out the memory of the horse-theft, he said. But the Americans stood ready, trying to see what the Pawnees really were up to—and Scar Head kept his eye upon the crafty Skidi.
Pretty soon Chief Pike and Iskatappe shook hands again. The Pawnees were to ride one way, the Americans another. Scar Head was just in time.
