The village of ten bears became the center of his life.
He was so spontaneous that he stayed here.
Lieutenant Dunbar lived alone.
His skin color, trousers and boots were all signs of a visitor from another world.
Like standing boxing, he sometimes seems to split into two personalities.
The traces of the old world that had remained upon him had faded away as he had devoted himself to Indian life.
Every time Dunbar thought, where did he find his place?
Every time he thought about it, he went off in a dreamy, empty state, and stopped what was at hand.
It took a few seconds, and when the fog had cleared, he went on with the work at hand, as if he did not understand what was bothering him.
The good news is that the time is always over.
He had lived in camp ten for a month and a half, and his favorite place to go was behind the bird's tent, the brown-roofed one.
Every morning and evening lieutenant Dunbar stayed for several hours.
For the first time he was able to talk freely about kicking birds.
Standing dancing taught him how to do it. After a week, the three of them were able to talk at length.
The lieutenant always thought it was good to kick birds.
But it was only after standing boxing translated many of his ideas in English that Dunbar discovered that his intellect was far superior to anyone he had ever known.
At first, they talked mostly by asking and answering questions.
Lieutenant Dunbar explained how he had come to the camp at siegwedgers, only to find himself alone.
The story is interesting, but bird kicking is also frustrating, and dancing with wolves about military deployments is almost unknown.
He knew neither the mission of the army nor the plan, and from him there was nothing to spy out.
He's a lone soldier.
I don't understand the white people.
"Why are you white people coming to our place?
"Asked the kicking bird.
Dunbar replied, "I don't think the white people are coming to your place. I think they are just passing by."
Kicking a bird once said;
"Texas has is the place where we, we land clearing monarch, but white buffalo the massacre in our land, the ox resin cast on the grass, now all these things happened, has too many white people, will be how many white to come?"
Then the lieutenant said, "I don't know."
"I have heard," continued the wizard, "that these white men say they will bring peace to the land, so why do they always come with bearded soldiers?
Why do these bearded soldiers, when we are about to leave, still feel the urge to kill us all?
I've heard white leaders talk to our indians about their promise of peace, but I've also heard that they keep breaking their word.
How do we know if white leaders are coming to see us, if they are real or fake?
Can we accept their gifts?
We can sign a contract with them, so will there really be peace between us?
When I was a little boy, there were a lot of people who were going to a conference in the Texas courthouse and they were shot dead.
The lieutenant would give a reasonable answer to the bird kick question, but only reluctantly.
If he asks aggressively, he can only say, "I don't know the truth."
He has to be careful.
It can be seen that the kicker was very concerned about these issues, but he didn't say what he really thought.
If the white men had really appeared here with great firepower, there would have been no hope of victory for the indians, no matter how brave and brave the indians were and how hard they fought.
At the same time, he can't tell the kicker what he thinks.
He was concerned, too, but the lieutenant could not tell him the truth, but he could not lie to the sorcerer.
On the face of it, he feigned a lack of enthusiasm for these issues and sought out newer, more life-like themes.
But every day, it's hard to refuse to answer these questions.
One of the most frequently asked questions is, "how many white people will be coming next time?"