acts like somethin's out there.
soon we was meeting up with kiowas an' wichitas an' even some comanches camped by one of the agencies.
but none of them was nawyecky's nor claimed to know a war chief named scar.  he's the one the late mister futterman said had debbie.
at one o' the agencies we outfitted with all kind an' manner of trade goods.  figgerin' that'd make it easier for us to come an' go.  you'd laugh if i told you what was our biggest seller.
ethan's always been throwing it up to me that i'm a quarter-breed.  i never figgered it made much difference.
but this day we came on a small herd. we needed some meat so we circled 'round.
and came up on 'em afoot.  they hadn't been hunted, so it was no trick workin' in close.
ethan got a nice one on his first shot, but then he began killing one after another -- cows as well as bulls -- fast as he could fire and load.  it was just a slaughter.  no sense to it.
it was all over long before we got there and the soldiers was high- tailin' it back to the agency with their prisoners -- squaws mostly -- by the time ethan and me reached the camp.
it was the nawyecky comanches all right -- the ones we'd been looking for all this time.
trouble of it was that the soldiers had hit when most of the fightin' men was away -- huntin' maybe.  so most of the dead was old men and women an' kids.  and it was in one of the tepees ethan found her -- the little squaw who wanted me to call her look.
so we knew debbie had been in the village.  what look was doing there -- whether she'd come to warn them, or maybe to find debbie for me.  there's no way of knowing.