One of them, a young man, naked save for a breech clout and
moccasins, was in the lead. As he approached David saw that his
eyelids were painted scarlet and that a spot of silver on his breast
was a medal hanging from a leathern thong.
At the bottom of the slope they reined up, standing in a group, with
lifted heads staring. The trio opposite stared as fixedly. Behind
Susan's back Leff had passed David the rifle. He held it in one hand,
Susan by the other. He was conscious of her rigidity and also of her
fearlessness. The hand he held was firm. Once, breathing a phrase of
encouragement, he met her eyes, steady and unafraid. All his own fear
had passed. The sense of danger was thrillingly acute, but he felt it
only in its relation to her. Dropping her hand he stepped a pace
forward and said loudly:
"How!"
The Indian with the medal answered him, a deep, gutteral note.
"Pawnee?" David asked.
The same man replied with a word that none of them understood.
"My camp is just here," said David, with a backward jerk of his head.
"There are many men there."
There was no response to this and he stepped back and said to Susan:
"Go slowly up the hill backward and keep your eyes on them.
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