It was one of the most satisfying days of lieutenant Dunbar's life.
The bird-kicking family received him warmly, respected him, and made him feel that he was more than just a guest.
They showed real pleasure in seeing him.
He sat down with the kicking birds and smoked.
Lieutenant Dunbar's Indian name, soon spread throughout the camp, spread at an alarming rate.
As long as people talk to each other, the topic can't leave this white soldier.
The news was said with great interest.
Many people went to greet them, some just went to see them dancing with the wolves.
Now the lieutenant could recognize most of them.
He stood up and bowed slightly in front of everyone.
Some of them bowed to him.
Some reached out and shook hands with him.
They had seen him do it and learned to do it.
Though they spoke different languages, the lieutenant used his hands and feet to talk about some of the most recent hunts.
After a few hours, a wave of visitors dwindled away, leaving no one.
Dunbar wondered, why didn't he see the standing dance?
She should be there!
Then the hair flew in.
Before they said hello to each other, both men noticed that they were both wearing items they had exchanged.
He was wearing a lieutenant's coat and a lieutenant's coat.
The two men took a quick look at each other.
As they shook hands, the lieutenant thought, I like this man and it's good to see him.
That's what piaofa thought, and they sat down together and talked amicably.
Interestingly, each spoke his own language, and neither could understand the other's language.
Kicking the bird told his wife to prepare the food, and the three of them wolfed down the dry beef and berries for lunch.
When eating, no one said a word.
After dinner, I began to smoke again.
The two indians talked to each other, and the lieutenant could only guess from their gestures and their tone what they were saying.
He could see that they were discussing something rather than chatting.
It seemed that he would not be surprised at what they planned.
When the two men had finished speaking, they both stood up and asked him to go out with them.
Dunbar followed them to the bird-kicking tent, and perhaps there was something good waiting for them.
The two men had a brief conversation with the other man, and then they began to get busy, moving some things into a tent four or five feet high.
A small portion of the tent can be opened as an entrance.
Lieutenant Dunbar went in first.
There was no room to stand up in, and once he sat down, he found the place quiet, covered with brown leaves that blocked out the sun and the air.
He had not yet seen it, and the kicking and waving of the hair had somehow disappeared.
A week ago, they suddenly left him, he would be very uncomfortable, but now he was like an Indian, no longer suspicious.
The lieutenant sat quietly against the wall, waiting to hear the familiar sounds of the ten-bear tent.