and the merciless face of a young warrior peered, upside down, into his. He saw metal flashing in the sun and he felt a blade cur into his temple and slice backward along the side of his head. Just as he made the realization that he was being scalped alive, the knife halted and his body was suddenly released.
He shut his eyes, trying to comprehend what was happening, and when he opened them again he was looking in the gruesome, one-eyed countenance of Wind In His Hair. The warrior stared at him silently for a few moments. Then the face of Kicking Bird appeared and Laurie Tatum was certain he had received deliverance.
'You want this pitiful creature?' Wind In His Hair asked.
'Hmm,' Kicking Bird grunted.
'Better keep him in your lodge. . better watch him. If he comes out these young men will kill him. If I see him, I'll kill him.'
There was still a gauntlet of knife-wielding widows and taunting, stone-throwing children to navigate as they passed through the village, and Lawrie Tatum was struck on the head with several projectiles before he was whisked into the safe haven of Kicking Bird's family lodge. While Kicking Bird's wives applied compresses and bandaged his torn and bleeding scalp, the shaken Quaker watched and listened as his host tried to explain that he should stay put until he could be spirited out of the village.
But Lawrie Tatum had not risked his life only to abort his mission, and Kicking Bird was taken aback when his white acquaintance began to converse in passable Comanche.
'Bring Ten Bears,' he petitioned. 'You. . Ten Bears. . me. . we talk now.'
“Now?'
“Yes. . now.”
A few minutes later, the old man, whose spectacles now rested on his nose through every waking hour of the day, took the hand of a white man for the first time.
Fearful of the danger in having the little agent in his special lodge, Kicking Bird shooed his family out and the three men settled on the floor. They smoked Kicking Bird's pipe, and as it began its fourth revolution, the Quaker shook his head negatively. He let his gaze wander fitfully over the floor for a few seconds before glancing first at Kicking Bird, then Ten Bears, then back to Kicking Bird.
'I talk,' he said, jabbing a stubby finger against his chest. 'I talk now.'
Kicking Bird and Ten Bears exchanged puzzled looks. This little man, his face coated with sweat and grime, blood caked in jagged lines along his jaw and throat, his bandaged head giving the impression of an impoverished potentate, and the bent frame of his eyeglasses causing the apparatus to list wildly on his face-what made him think he could simply ride into their village and demand to speak with Ten Bears?
Yet Lawrie Tatum's eyes burned with a bright purpose that would have registered on anyone. The urgency of his mission was so great, in fact, that it transcended his ridiculous appearance, and Kicking Bird and Ten Bears, curious to hear him, nodded for him to go ahead.
Clearly and concisely, the Quaker relayed the new ultimatum. All Comanches must enroll on the reservation within thirty days or suffer the consequences of war with the whites. He also made it clear that while, he personally abhorred war, there was nothing he could do to stop it, he stressed that to take up arms against the whites would be fruitless. He concluded by telling both men that he had spoken truly.
Kicking Bird stared at him, shocked.
'Everyone must come in?' he asked, disbelieving.
“Yes.'
'In one moon?'
“Yes.'
Ten Bears had pulled out his pipe, packed it, and, in the silence before Kicking Bird and Lawrie Tatum spoke, had began to smoke.
'One moon not enough,' Kicking Bird stated flatly.
'One moon,' Lawrie Tatum repeated helplessly. 'One moon.'
Kicking Bird leaned in toward his visitor.
'Some Comanche fight.'
“You. . stop them.'
'No, Kicking Bird cannot.'
“If you go. . people follow.”
'Some. . maybe. Each man decide. Not Kicking Bird.'
Frustrated, the Quaker tacked in another direction.
'The buffalo. .' he began solemnly, 'buffalo gone.'
Kicking Bird's eyes widened. So did Ten Bears'.
'Gone?' Kicking Bird exclaimed. 'Where?'
“Trains.'
Lawrie Tatum sighed as Kicking Bird tried to grasp what he was saying.
'East,' the Quaker offered.
Direction didn't matter much to Kicking Bird, who was still preoccupied with the concept of buffalo on trains. 'How many trains?' he asked.
'Oh,' Lawrie Tatum gasped, 'I do not know. Many, many, many. All day. All night.'
'The buffalo are dead on the prairie,' Kicking Bird stated firmly. “Not on trains.'
The Quaker's rudimentary Comanche was adequate but, reverting to simple signs, he easily made Kicking Bird and Ten Bears understand that he was not talking about whole buffalo. Only the tongues and skins of the buffalo were being carried east on trains.
Ten Bears took the pipe from his mouth and said something that Kicking Bird quickly translated.
'Buffalo not die. Buffalo holy.'
Lawrie Tatum pursed his lips and softened his voice.
'Comanche no eat. . no food. Comanche must come.'
Again Ten Bears spoke and Kicking Bird translated.
'We talk in. . in council. . tonight. Ten Bears will not go. Born on prairie. Die on prairie.'
Kicking Bird glanced at Ten Bears as the old man continued.
'Ten Bears old,' Kicking Bird said. 'Too old for white man's holy road.'
'Kicking Bird?' Lawrie Tatum asked. 'Kicking Bird come in? Touch pen?'
Though his mind was already set, Kicking Bird could not find it in himself to admit his decision.
'Maybe,' he answered.
The Quaker agent was crestfallen. He had ridden far into unfamiliar country, risking his life to deliver a distasteful ultimatum. The response to his personal plea had fallen far short of the hopes he harbored, and as he tried to articulate the last part of the offer he did so with none of his normal verve, certain that this, too, would be rejected.
'Come to Washington.'
Kicking Bird's face jumped.
'Washington?'
'Great White Father wants. . meet Comanches.'
'Who?' Kicking Bird asked.
'You,' Lawrie Tatum answered. Then he tilted his head in Ten Bears' direction. 'And Ten Bears.'
'Kicking Bird. . Ten Bears. . go Washington? Meet Great White Father?'
“Yes.'
Kicking Bird translated the startling invitation for the old man, but Ten Bears, after a moment's reflection, shook his head as he spoke.
'Ten Bears say no. Cant ride horse. Can't walk so far.'
'Ride train,' Lawrie Tatum countered.
Kicking Bird spoke to Ten Bears again and, for the first time, the headman sent his reply directly to Lawrie Tatum.
'White people kill Comanches,' he said,
'No, no, no. Great White Father say no. No. . no.” 'Catch Comanches. . put in cage.'
'No,' the Quaker said emphatically. 'Kicking Bird, Ten Bears, Washington. Make five, six, seven sleeps. Come
