again. There was fear on the camp in the morning.
The spruce-spires made uneasy sounds. A going there was in the tree-tops; a shivering sound in the aspens. And the hard white clouds above bumped together like ice-chunks in the spring flood of Assiniboinisipi.
The loud trumpeters crossed the sky; the squawkers were squawking; the rumblers were rumbling; a thousand added to the clamor born of the fear that was born of the clamor.
“The White foe comes; we are as the brood of Shesheep when Wah-gush finds them afoot and a mile from the water. We are caught unready.”
There was confusion and panic — till Ninna-bo-jou was apprised, and, vexed at their fear, proclaimed: “I alone plan ..text continues