"I am American," asserted Scar Head. "American. No Pawnee."
The medicine-man laughed, but he seemed pleased.
There were many of the Pawnees—fully three hundred. They approached swiftly, across the rolling prairie, from the north. They were horseback, but they acted like a war party—all were warriors, with guns and bows and lances. What did they want? Even Scar Head could not guess. Had Charakterik decided to let the Americans be attacked? That was foolish. The Americans were ready, and would fight hard.
Or, perhaps Iskatappe and Skidi and other hot-*hearts had planned this without permission, and were determined to see what they might do.
The Americans stood in a half circle, facing the Pawnees, their horses tied short, behind them. Chief Pike stood in front of the center, his sword in his hand. His sub-chief was at one end and the medicine-man at the other end. Scar Head fitted his arrow upon his bow, twitched his quiver around so that he might reach it more easily, and ran closer to the medicine-man's end, where he could shoot better. The soldier Sparks was here, too.
Iskatappe led the Pawnees. They were nearing fast. Yes, Skidi was among them. Scar Head de-
