Silently the chief held the pipe to the glowing coals and then, when it was lit, held it to his mouth and puffed deeply. He passed it to Sam, who puffed and in turn passed it to the brave seated next to him in the circle.
When the pipe came back to the chief, Sam opened the bottle of whisky.
He wiped the rim of it carefully and tilted it to his lips, then offered it to the chief.
The chief did the same and took a large swallow of the whisky.
It burned his throat and his eyes watered and he wanted to cough, but he choked back the cough and passed the bottle to the brave seated next to him.
When the bottle came back to Sam, he placed it on the ground in front of the chief.
He leaned forward and took a piece of meat out of the pot.
He chewed elaborately on the fatty morsel with much smacking of his lips and then swallowed it.
He looked at the chief.
"Good dog."
The chief nodded.
"We cut out its tongue and kept it tied to a stake that it would be properly fat."
They were silent for a moment and the chief reached again for the bottle of whisky.
Sam knew it was then time for him to speak.
"I am a mighty hunter," he boasted. "My gun has slain thousands of buffalo.
My prowess is known all across the plains.
There is no brave who can feed as many as I."
The chief nodded solemnly.
"The deeds of Red Beard are known to us.
It is an honor to welcome him to our tribe."
"I have come to my brothers for the maiden known as Kaneha," Sam said. "I want her for my squaw."
The chief sighed slowly in relief.
Kaneha was the youngest of his daughters and the least favored. For she was tall for a maiden, almost as tall as the tallest brave, and thin, her waist so thin that two hands could span it.
There was not enough room inside her for a child to grow, and her face and features were straight and flat, not round and fat, as a maiden's should be.
The chief sighed again in relief.
Kaneha would be no problem now.
"It is a wise choice," he said aloud. "The maiden Kaneha is ripe for child-bearing.
Already her blood floods thickly to the ground when the moon is high."
Sam got to his feet and walked over to the mule.
He opened one of the packs and took out six bottles of whisky and a small wooden box.
He carried them back to the circle and placed them on the ground before him. He sat down again.
"I have brought gifts to my brothers, the Kiowa," he said. "In appreciation of the honor they show me when they allow me to sit in their council."
He placed the whisky bottles in front of the chief and opened the little box. It was filled with gaily colored beads and trinkets.
He held the box so that all could see and then placed it, too, before the chief.
The chief nodded again.
"The Kiowa is grateful for the gifts of Red Beard.
But the loss of the maiden Kaneha will be a difficult one for her tribe to bear.
Already she has won her place among us by her skills in her womanly crafts. Her cooking and sewing, her artistry in leather-making."
"I am aware of the high regard in which the Kiowa hold their daughter Kaneha," Sam said formally. "And I came prepared to compensate them for their loss." He got to his feet again. "For the loss of her aid in feeding the tribe, I pledge the meat of two buffalo," he said, looking down at them. "For the loss of her labor, I give to my brothers this mule which I have brought with me.
And to compensate them for the loss of her beauty, I bring them- "
He paused dramatically and walked back to his mule. Silently he untied the heavy rolled pack on its back. He carried the pack back to the seated council and laid it on the ground before them. Slowly he unrolled it.
A sigh of awe came unbidden from the circle.
The chief's eyes glittered.
"… the hide of the sacred white buffalo," Sam said. He looked around the circle.
Their eyes were fixed on the beautiful white skin that shone before them like snow on the ground.
The albino buffalo was a rarity.
The chief that could be laid to rest on such a sacred hide was assured that his spirit would enter the happy hunting grounds.
To the skin-traders, it might be worth almost as much as ten ordinary hides. But Sam knew what he wanted.
He wanted a woman.
For five years, he had lived on these plains and had been able only to share the services of a whore once a year at trading time in the small room back of the skin-trader's post.