Simon Sprott was meditatively puffing at his tobacco pipe; but he paused to answer--
"Word was brought in by one of our scouts."
"Did that scout see the herd with his own eyes?" Kiddie pursued.
"Well, no; I believe not," Simon answered absently. "A lone trapper on Box Elder Creek gave him the information; said it was the biggest herd seen on these hunting grounds for many summers back."
"Trapper might have been one of Broken Feather's spies," Kiddie suggested very quietly.
"Eh?" Simon Sprott looked up sharply and blew a long, slow jet of smoke from his lips.
"It's possible," he acknowledged; "quite possible, but not just likely. And why should the trapper, if he was a spy, tell the scout that the buffalo were there, and even recommend the hunt?"
"Yes, why?" Kiddie asked. "For my own part, I don't believe that there's a herd of buffalo within a hundred miles of Washakee Peak. I guess the trapper had his instructions to tell that story, just to get your warriors out on the buffalo trail, leaving your village undefended for Broken Feather to make his unopposed attack upon it in your absence."
Simon Sprott stared at Kiddie in amazement.
"That's cute," he said, "very cute indeed of you to hit upon such an idea. It's just the sort of idea that Buckskin Jack himself might have sprung out of that wonderful brain of his. I believe you're right. Broken Feather would do a cunning thing like that. It's quite in his line. Nothing more likely. In any case, the Crows are going to alter their programme. All preparations for the buffalo surround are complete. You and friend Rube there were to have had a great time. But that buffalo hunt isn't going to come off."
When Rube Carter awoke the following morning he found himself alone in the teepee, and might have believed himself to be back in Kiddie's camp on Sweetwater Lake but for the medley of sounds that came to him through the open door-flap.
He heard the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs, and the high-pitched voices of squaws and children.
He listened sleepily for a while. Just outside of the lodge a party of young braves were quarrelling for possession of a cooking-pot.
"For people who have the reputation of bein' silent, Injuns are capable of makin' a heap of noise," Rube said to himself, "I never heard such a racket in all my days."