"My brother sees that my tongue is not forked," continued the trapper,
watching the emotions the other betrayed, with a readiness of
comprehension little inferior to that of the Teton himself. "The Big-
knives do not send their women to war. I know that the Dahcotahs will
smoke with the strangers."
"Mahtoree is a great chief! The Big-knives are welcome," said the
Teton, laying his hand on his breast, with an air of lofty politeness
that would have done credit to any state of society. "The arrows of my
young men are in their quivers."
The trapper motioned to Middleton to approach, and in a few moments
the two parties were blended in one, each of the males having
exchanged friendly greetings, after the fashions of the prairie
warriors. But, even while engaged in this hospitable manner, the
Dahcotah did not fail to keep a strict watch on the more distant party
of white men, as if he still distrusted an artifice, or sought further
explanation. The old man, in his turn, perceived the necessity of
being more explicit, and of securing the slight and equivocal
advantage he had already obtained.
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