II + 

Red Man sought out Wounded Face where he stood at his pony’s head, talking to Killed a Navajo. Despite a certain jauntiness, he did not look like a gambler who had just won a small fortune. He addressed the older man rather abruptly, + 

“Grandfather!” + 

“Yes?” + 

“Are you not the uncle of that man who won the horse-race, the one from T’o Tlakai?” + 

“I am. What is it?” + 

Red Man had meant to go slow, but his words were jumping out on him. “Did he speak to you? Has he told you what he planned to do?” + 

Wounded Face and his friend suddenly lost all expression; they became wooden. + 

“I do not know what you mean. We talked together yesterday. What is in your mind?” + 

“He has gone to Chiziai. He has gone⁠—he has gone⁠—he has not gone alone.” + 

“He went with the woman who was stopped from dancing?” + 

“Yes.” + 

“Well?” + 

“Do you not know about her?” + 

“I have heard a little talk; I do not know anything. She is rich; perhaps it is a good marriage, I think.” + 

Red Man saw that Wounded Face very much wanted firsthand information. “I live not far from Chiziai. I know, not just talk. She lives alone, she does no work, she is rich. The Americans make her rich, for badness. She is two faces and two tongues. You see her clothes and her skin, and hear her voice, but all the rest inside is American badness. I know. Hear me, I know.” + 

He had managed to be gay all night; he had been the cheerfullest of all the gamblers, the readiest singer, the pleasantest loser. Now suddenly it all went back on him. He moved his lips, and found he did not dare speak. He raised his hand to his mouth with two fingers outstretched, and thrust it forward⁠—two-tongued. He struck his heart, then raised his fist before his face and brought it down rapidly⁠—heart that kills with a knife. He struck his heart again, then brought his right fist down on his left hand⁠—like a stone⁠—making the gesture with all his force. He repeated how she made her living; in sign talk it was frightfully graphic and coarse. + 

“That is enough, Grandfather,” Wounded Face said. “You did well to tell me.” + 

Red Man departed. + 

“Shall we ride after him?” Killed a Navajo asked. + 

“No. That is what that young man wants us to do, I think. You saw him, how moved he was. We have heard something of what he says, but still, he had reason to lie. Besides, it would be no use. He is like me, he is like his mother, and his father. You know them. When it is something serious he makes up his mind; you cannot move him unless you can convince him. I have six nephews, he is the best of them.” Wounded Face stood with his hand on his saddle, staring at the stirrup. “Well, we can only wait. Do not speak of it, my friend.” + 

“I hear you.” + 

He mounted swiftly, and rode off at a trot. + 