"Listen! Send Warning is white. He is a great man among his own people. He can give heap to chief. Can't find all here. Out on plains. Up in mountains. Go to fort. See blue-coat chief. See traders. Get all he wants there."
"Ugh! Good. Make talking leaf. Send it to fort. Young brave carry it. All things come back."
Many Bears had seen something of that kind done, and had never ceased envying the white man's power to obtain presents by means of a little piece of paper. Murray replied,
"No. Send Warning in no hurry. Wait till we get to fort."
That would not be for many days; and the more Many Bears thought of all the good things he had mentioned the more anxious he became to see his adopted daughter set up in a lodge of her own. Or at least under the care of a warrior who was willing to give such a "big heap" for the privilege. He "thought of something more" almost every hour from that time on, but his demands were mainly for items of moderate cost, and he did not feel at liberty to mention any larger number of ponies or blankets.
"We can buy the blankets easily enough," said Steve, when he was told the terms of the bargain, "but what about the ponies?"
"Cheaper than blankets, my boy. I've seen droves of them going for ten dollars a head. We won't have to give more than twenty. As to the other things there are always traders around the posts."
They had already counted the contents of their little buckskin bags, and Steve had been surprised to find how much money there was in little more than twenty pounds of gold coin. He had found, indeed, a strange pleasure in counting it over and over, while Murray told him of his beautiful home away across the sea.
"Have three or four times as much as this every year. You must come and visit with me, Steve, as soon as you've seen your own people."
"I dare not think much of them, Murray. I can't talk about them. It will be time enough when I learn if any of them are yet alive."
"Don't, Murray. I'd rather talk about Rita and our plans here."
Poor Ni-ha-be! It was not many days after that before Mother Dolores one morning called her into the lodge.
"Ni-ha-be, Rita is going to the lodge of Send Warning!"
"She shall not! He is to old. His head is white. He is ugly. I will not let her go. He is a pale-face."