A splendid picture he made there
in the starlight and the solitude; but of it the man who followed was
oblivious. Of one thing alone he was conscious, and that was that he was
very tired; weary from the effect of an unusual exercise, doubly
exhausted in the reaction from excitement passed. With an effort he
urged his own horse alongside the leader, drew rein meaningly.
"Let's hold up a bit," he protested. "I've come twenty-five miles to-day
already, and I'm about beat." He slapped the breast pocket of his coat a
bit obviously, and as his companion slowed to a walk, produced a
silver-mounted, seal-covered flask and proffered it at arm's length.
"The cork unscrews to the left," he explained suggestively.
The dark figure of the guide made no motion of acceptance, did not even
glance around.
"Thanks, but I never drink," he declined.
"Not even to be sociable,"--the hand was still extended,--"not when I
ask you as--a friend?"
"I am a Sioux," simply. "I have found that liquor is not good for an
Indian."
For a second the white man hesitated; then with something akin to a
flush on his face, he returned the flask to his pocket untasted.
Again, without turning, the other observed the motion.
"Pardon me, but I did not mean to prevent you."
He spoke stiffly, almost diffidently, as on unused to speech with
strangers, unused to speech at all; but without a trace of embarrassment
or of affectation.
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