"Are you afraid to tell your mother the truth," he said, "or do you fear the 'long knives' [Footnote: Officers and soldiers are called long knives among the Sioux, from their wearing swords.] will carry you a prisoner to their fort?
_I_ will tell you where we are going," he added.

"The Dahcotahs have bought us whiskey, and we are going to meet them and help bring it up.

And now cry--you are a woman--but it is time for us to be gone." The son lingered--he could not bear to see his mother's tears.

He knew the sorrows she had endured, he knew too (for she had often assured him) that should harm come to him she would not survive it.

The knife she carried in her belt was ready to do its deadly work.