It was a terrible moment. A dozen guns came into sight and half of them were already presented and the click of the locks was heard on every side, when the still outstretched revolver was knocked from Hare’s hand into the lake by one of his companions, and the loud voice of Running Water arrested the leaden storm which in another instant would have dealt destruction upon the dismayed white men.  
But, although the guns were lowered at the chief’s command, they were not put down, and for some minutes there was a jargon of loud and angry words among the Indians, with fierce gestures and scowls, and it was evidently all that their leader could do to restrain them from taking instant vengeance for the outrage which had been inflicted upon them.
 
Some raised and succored the man who had been shot, but his wound was evidently mortal, and as they tried to stanch the blood which flowed profusely from his breast, their wrath and grief broke out afresh and threatened to set the authority of their leader at defiance.
 
Running Water, in fact, did not look much less indignant than his comrades, when, their clamor having abated, he turned toward Congo, and asked, in a mournful voice:
 
“Why have my brothers done this?”
 
Captain Meinhold was about replying, when Buffalo Bill laid his hand upon his arm and said:
 
“Wait! Let Joe be our spokesman, since he has already done so well. Tell him the truth, Joe, and see that the whole blame falls where it belongs.”
 
The chief repeated his question, and Joe, getting as near to him as he could, replied, rubbing his eyes:
 
“I tell you wot, cap’n—it’s all a mistake.”
 
“No un’stan’.”
 
“You see dis man?” pointing to Captain Meinhold.
 
The Indian nodded.
 
“He is our chief. He good man; we all goody men, except him,” pointing to Hare.
 
“What do you mean, you black rascal?” said the excited man.
 
“Keep still, Hare,” replied Cody authoritatively, “or you will be compelled to. This matter has got to be explained. You would not take our advice, and you must now bear the blame of your own actions.”
 
“I did what I thought was right.”
 
“Very well! And now we shall do what we think is right. You just keep still, that’s all you’ve got to do.”
 
“He bad man,” continued Congo. “He shooty-shooty. We try to stop him berry much. We all berry sorry. Cap’n Running Water—berry,” and again the negro knuckled his eyes and almost brought tears.
 
All this had to be repeated several times before it was understood, and when the chief had explained it to his people their concentrated gaze of hatred fell upon the rash offender, who evidently quailed before it.
 
“We came in peace,” said Running Water. “We brought presents to our white brothers. See!”
 
He pointed, as he spoke, to a very large salmon trout and a string of black bass which lay in one of the boats, together with a bundle of dried corn and a gourd full of wild strawberries, red and luscious.
 
The offerings left no doubt of the pacific—nay, friendly—nature of the visit, and the blush of shame succeeded the ashen hue of fear on the cheek of the guilty man as he gazed upon them.
 
Captain Meinhold now addressed the chief, expressing the deepest sorrow for what had happened, and begging that they might be forgiven and be permitted to proceed on their voyage, as they were a party of shipwrecked men in great distress, being separated from their friends, and some of them from wives and children at their homes, besides the women in their charge.
 
Having seemingly made himself understood by words and signs, he next collected and offered to the chief all the silver coin in possession of the company, and Hare, taking the hint from these proceedings, hastily drew out his watch and handed it to the captain to be added to the presents.
 
But Running Water turned scornfully away from these gifts, and refused to receive or to look at them.
 
“We must not sell our brother’s blood,” he said, and, turning to his men, he conferred with them for a few minutes, and then announced, as the general voice of his party, that the white men were all at liberty to proceed on their voyage, except the offender, who must be given up to them to be dealt with after their customs.
 
Hare turned pale and trembled very much when this decision was announced, but no argument or entreaties of his own or of his friends could produce any change or sign of wavering in the minds of the red men.
 
They listened attentively to all that was said, but still Running Water replied to it all in the same words, and almost in the same tone.
 
“Life for life,” was their law. He was very sorry for the young man, he said, but he could not protect[249] him, if he would, from those who had a right to demand his blood—the relations of the slain man.
 
“Pray don’t give me up, gentlemen,” exclaimed Hare. “They will burn me at the stake. They will torture me for a whole day.”
 
“We can’t possibly save you, Hare,” replied the captain. “We have no weapons excepting three small pistols, and here............