'Excuse me, you're what?' Scull asked.
'I'm the Lord of the Last Day,' the old man said. 'That's my wolf, howling to let me know he's caught a tasty varmint.' He put down his other foot and without another ^w or gesture began moving on down the river.
Famous Shoes gestured--on a rise still lit by the last of the afterglow, the wolf waited. The old man was soon lost in the deepening dusk.
'Now that's curious,' Scull said. 'I'm out my tobacco, and I don't know a thing more than I did. Why would he call himself the 'Lord of the Last Day''? What does it mean?' 'The Apaches may be right,' Famous Shoes said. 'When you see the Old One your last day may be close.' 'If mine's close I'd like to have a good feed first,' Scull commented. 'But I won't, not unless the hunting improves.' 'We don't have to eat the owl--I hear ducks,' Famous Shoes said.
Scull heard them too and looked around in time to see a large flock of teal curve over the river and come back to settle on the water.
'When it's dark I will go down and catch some,' Famous Shoes said.
'Help yourself, but I plan to scorch this owl anyway,' Scull said. 'I won't have provender going to waste.'
When Three Birds caught up with Kicking Wolf he was walking out of a gully dragging a small antelope he had just killed. The antelope was only a fawn but Three Birds was excited anyway. They had had little meat since stealing the Buffalo Horse. The sight of the dead fawn made Three Birds so hungry he forgot his news.
'Let's cook it now,' he said. 'Why didn't you shoot its mother?' 'Why didn't you kill her?' Kicking Wolf asked. 'Where have you been?' 'I had to go a long way to find Scull,' Three Birds said. 'He is following us but he is walking.' At first Kicking Wolf did not believe it.
Three Birds often lived in his own dream time for days at a stretch. Often he would ride around so long, dreaming, that he would forget what errand he had been sent on. When someone reminded him that he had been supposed to secure a particular piece of information he would often just make up whatever came into his head, which is what he was probably doing when he claimed that Scull was following them on foot. Kicking Wolf had expected pursuit and kept up a fast pace to elude it.
How could Scull expect to catch him if he was on foot? He sent Three Birds back to investigate, thinking that perhaps Buffalo Hump or some other warriors had fallen on Scull and killed him.
Now, though, Three Birds had come back with a farfetched tale that no sensible person could believe. Three Birds was just trying to explain why he had been gone four days. Now all he could think about was eating the little antelope.
'I don't believe you--Scull had several horses,' Kicking Wolf said. 'Why would he follow us on foot?' Three Birds was offended. He had ridden for days, with little food, into the country of the enemy, to find out what Kicking Wolf wanted to know. He had found it out, and now Kicking Wolf didn't believe him.
'He is following us on foot and the Kickapoo is with him,' he said. 'Scull is four days behind but he walks fast and does not sleep much. If we wait we can kill him, and the Kickapoo too.' Kicking Wolf gave the matter a little more thought, as he skinned the young antelope. Three Birds usually abandoned his lies if questioned closely, but he was not abandoning this lie, which might mean that it wasn't a lie. Big Horse Scull was known to do strange things. Often he would skin little birds that were much too small to eat; then he would throw the birds away and pack their skins with salt. When he travelled he would sometimes pick up beetles and other bugs and put them in small jars. Once he even sacked up some bats that flew out of a cave--what such activities added up to was some kind of witchery, that was plain. That he had chosen to follow them on foot was just more evidence that he was some kind of a witch man. Lots of Indians were out on the plains hunting--if they had seen Scull they would have killed him, yet he was still alive, which suggested more witchery.
'Famous Shoes would like to sleep but Scull wakes him up and makes him walk,' Three Birds said. 'When there is no moon they burn sticks to help them find the tracks.' Kicking Wolf decided Three Birds was being truthful. He gave him the best parts of the fawn, for travelling fast to bring him the information.
'We will soon be in the Sierra,' Kicking Wolf said. 'Ahumado will find us. I don't know what he will do. I think he will like the Buffalo Horse, but I don't know. Maybe he won't like it that we have come.' Three Birds was eating so fast that he could not figure out what Kicking Wolf was getting at.
Of course no one knew what Ahumado would like, or what he would do. He was the Black Vaquero. He had killed so many people that everyone had lost count. Sometimes he killed whole villages, throwing all the people in a well and letting them drown--or he might make the villagers dig a pit and then bury them alive.
He had an old man who was skilled at flaying; sometimes he would have the old man take all the skin off a man or a woman who had done something he disliked. He stuck people on sharpened trees and let the tree poke up through them. It was pointless to talk about what such a man might like or not like.
'If he doesn't like us he might stick us on a tree,' Kicking Wolf said.
Three Birds grew more puzzled. Why was Kicking Wolf telling him all these things that he already knew? Ahumado only did bad things.
Sometimes he hung people in cages and let them starve --or he might throw them into a pit full of scorpions and snakes. But all this was common knowledge among the Comanches, many of whom had died at the hands of the Black Vaquero. Did Kicking Wolf think such talk would scare him? Was he trying to suggest that he run away, like a coward?
'I don't know why you are taking the Buffalo Horse to this man, but if that is what you want to do, then I am going too,' Three Birds said.
'It is your choice,' Kicking Wolf said.
He was a little ashamed of himself, for trying to scare Three Birds away. Three Birds was a brave warrior, even though he didn't fight very well and was often wandering in the dream time when he should be paying more attention to things.
When he stole the Buffalo Horse he thought he would take him to Ahumado alone. There would be much power flow from such an act. He would take a great horse from the most powerful Texan and sell him to the terrible bandit of the south. No one else had done such a thing. It was a thing that would be sung forever. Even if Ahumado killed him his feat would live in the songs.
He had not meant to share it with anybody. He had thought when they reached the river he would send Three Birds back and go into the Sierra Perdida alone, riding the Buffalo Horse.
