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A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,,Geoffrey happening to be present when this flattering remark is made, Violet turns to him and says impulsively,—,It was very late. The Seven Stars had come to the middle of the night, yet again they heard the feast shout from the far end of the camp. In this lodge the men were painted with streaks of red, and their hair was all pushed to one side. After the feast the chief said, "We are different from all others here. We are called the Braves (Mŭt´-sĭks). We know not fear; we are death. Even if our enemies are as many as the grass we do not turn away, but fight and conquer. Bows are good weapons, lances are better; but our weapon is the knife.","You mustn't think I supposed you kept it for any other purpose," he says, quite solemnly, and in such a depressed tone that Mona almost feels sorry for him.,"But it is early yet, Mickey, isn't it?" says Mona.,"Put down your pistol, sir," she says, hastily. "Would you fire on a woman?" Her tone, though hurried, is not oppressed with fear. She even advances a few steps in his direction. Her words, her whole manner, fill him with admiration. The extreme courage she betrays is, indeed worthy of any man's laudation, but the implied trust in his chivalry touches Paul Rodney more than anything has ever had power to touch him before.,"Thanks. I'll put it off for a night or two," says Nolly, sleepily.,Three Bulls, chief of the camp, was a great man. He had a fierce temper, and when he spoke, people hurried to do what he ordered, for they feared him. He never talked loud nor called any one by an ill name. When any one displeased him or refused to do what he said he just smiled and then killed the person. He was brave. In battle with enemies he was the equal of twenty men, rushing here, there, into the thickest of the fights, and killing—always with that silent, terrible smile on his face. Because he was such a great warrior, and also because he was generous, helping the poor, feasting any who came to his lodge, he was the head chief of the Blackfeet.,"I think," says Geoffrey, slightly disconcerted by the sweet leisure of her gaze, "I have lost my way. I have been walking since sunrise, and I want you to tell me where I am.",His eyes, black and faintly savage, seem to burn into hers.,She lays her hand upon her heart, as though she would say, "The wound lies here," and once more turns to the door.,CHAPTER XXVIII..