He stood about five feet tall and was almost as broad as he was high. He covered his genitalia so inadequately with a beaded loincloth that she knew at a glance that he was a he and not an it; and he waddled on thick, muscular legs that were jointed so strangely that she couldn’t imagine how he could possibly sit down, or even squat on his haunches.

His face, like those of the other aliens, was covered by a painted design, but seemed, if not human, at least very expressive. Virtue couldn’t imagine any being with so many feathers not having a beak to go along with them, but Sitting Bull possessed a broad, flat nose and a narrow, puckered mouth. His eyes were umber, his pupils mere vertical slits. If he had ears, she couldn’t spot them, but she decided that they may very well have been covered by the substantial headdress.

“Hello, Sitting Bull,” said the Swagman, starting to get to his feet. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Remain seated,” replied Sitting Bull in a harsh, croaking voice that grated on Virtue’s ears; it seemed so out of place that she felt he was purposely deepening it to impress them. The Swagman sat back down and re-crossed his legs. “Who is your companion?”

“Virtue MacKenzie,” said Virtue, wondering whether to extend her hand and deciding not to. “I’m a journalist.”

Sitting Bull stared at her expressionlessly for a moment, then turned back to the Swagman and cleared his throat, a grating noise that sounded like metal rubbing against metal and caused Virtue to conclude that she was hearing his normal voice after all.

“What favor do you seek from the Great Sioux Nation?”

“Information,” responded the Swagman promptly.

“Will the acquisition of this information bring harm to one or more Men?” asked Sitting Bull.

“It will,” said the Swagman.

The feathered alien made a sudden awkward jerking motion with his head, which Virtue took to be a nod of approval.

“Will the acquisition of this information bring harm to one or more members of any other race?”

“Absolutely not,” the Swagman assured him.

“Are you aware of the penalty for lying?”

“Let us say that I can hazard a remarkably accurate guess.”

“Do not guess, Jolly Swagman.” Sitting Bull leaned forward and stared intently at him, and suddenly Virtue decided that he looked a lot more like an alien than an Indian. “Should any harm befall anyone other than a Man as a result of the information that you seek, you and Virtue MacKenzie will be found no matter where you try to hide. You will be brought back to Diamond Strike, you will be tortured, and eventually you will be tethered to a stake and burned to death. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly.”

“Then you may make your request.”

“We’re looking for Santiago. Do you know where he is?”

“Yes.”

There was a long silence.

“Well?” demanded Virtue.