[Illustration: 01 Pretty Mother of the Night--White Otter is no longer]

THE WAY OF AN INDIAN

By Frederic Remington

Illustrated by Frederic Remington

First published, February, 1906

Contents

 I White Otter's Own Shadow

 II The Brown Bat Proves Itself

 III The Bat Devises Mischief Among the Yellow-Eyes

 IV The New Lodge

 V The Kites and the Crows

 VI The Fire-Eater's Bad Medicine

 VII Among the Pony-Soldiers

 VIII The Medicine Fight of the Chis-Chis-Chash

I. White Otter's Own Shadow

White Otter's heart was bad. He sat alone on the rim-rocks of the bluffsoverlooking the sunlit valley. To an unaccustomed eye from below hemight have been a part of nature's freaks among the sand rocks. Theyellow grass sloped away from his feet mile after mile to the timber, and beyond that to the prismatic mountains. The variegated lodges of theChis-chis-chash village dotted the plain near the sparse woods of thecreek-bottom; pony herds stood quietly waving their tails against theflies or were driven hither and yon by the herdboys--giving variety tothe tremendous sweep of the Western landscape. 

This was a day of peace--such as comes only to the Indians in contrastto the fierce troubles which nature stores up for the other intervals. The enemy, the pinch of the shivering famine, and the Bad Gods wereabsent, for none of these things care to show themselves in the whitelight of a midsummer's day. There was peace with all the world exceptwith him. He was in a fierce dejection over the things which had cometo him, or those which had passed him by. He was a boy--a fine-looking, skillfully modeled youth--as beautiful a thing, doubtless, as God evercreated in His sense of form; better than his sisters, better than thefour-foots, or the fishes, or the birds, and he meant so much more thanthe inanimate things, in so far as we can see. He had the body given tohim and he wanted to keep it, but there were the mysterious demons ofthe darkness, the wind and the flames; there were the monsters from theshadows, and from under the waters; there were the machinations of hisenemies, which he was not proof against alone, and there was yet thestrong hand of the Good God, which had not been offered as yet to helphim on with the simple things of life; the women, the beasts of thefields, the ponies and the war-bands. He could not even protect his ownshadow, which was his other and higher self. 

His eyes dropped on the grass in front of his moccasins--tiny driedblades of yellow grass, and underneath them he saw the dark traceries oftheir shadows. Each had its own little shadow--its soul--its changeablething--its other life--just as he himself was cut blue-black besidehimself on the sandstone. There were millions of these grass-blades, andeach one shivered in the wind, maundering to itself in the chorus, whichmade the prairie sigh, and all for fear of a big brown buffalo wanderingby, which would bite them from the earth and destroy them. 

White Otter's people had been strong warriors in the Chis-chis-chash;his father's shirt and leggins were black at the seams with the hair ofother tribes. He, too, had stolen ponies, but had done no better thanthat thus far, while he burned to keep the wolf-totem red with honor. Only last night, a few of his boy companions, some even younger thanhimself, had gone away to the Absaroke for glory and scalps, and poniesand women--a war-party--the one thing to which an Indian pulsed withhis last drop. He had thought to go also, but his father had discouragedhim, and yesterday presented him with charcoal ashes in his right hand, and two juicy buffalo ribs with his left. He had taken the charcoal. Hisfather said it was good--that it was not well for a young man to go tothe enemy with his shadow uncovered before the Bad Gods. 

Now his spirits raged within his tightened belly, and the fierce Indianbrooding had driven him to the rim-rock, where his soul rocked andpounced within him. He looked at the land of his people, and he hatedall vehemently, with a rage that nothing stayed but his physicalstrength. 

Old Big Hair, his father, sitting in the shade of his tepee, looked outacross at his son on the far-off skyline, and he hid his head in hisblanket as he gazed into his medicine-pouch. "Keep the enemy and the BadGods from my boy; he has no one to protect him but you, my medicine. "

[Illustration: 03 He looked on the land of his peopleand he hated all vehemently]

Thus hour after hour there sat the motionless tyro, alone with hisown shadow on the hill. The shades of all living nature grew great andgreater with the declining sun. The young man saw it with satisfaction. His heart swelled with brave thoughts, as his own extended itself downthe hillside--now twenty feet long--now sixty--until the western sunwas cut by the bluffs, when it went out altogether. The shadow of WhiteOtter had been eaten up by the shadow of the hill. He knew now that hemust go to the westward--to the western mountains, to the Inyan-kara, where in the deep recesses lay the shadows which had eaten his. Theywere calling him, and as the sun sank to rest, White Otter rose slowly, drew his robe around him, and walked away from the Chis-chis-chash camp. 

The split sticks in Big Hair's lodge snapped and spit gleams of light onthe old warrior as he lay back on his resting-mat. He was talking to hissacred symbols. "Though he sleeps very far off, though he sleeps even onthe other side, a spirit is what I use to keep him. Make the bellies ofanimals full which would seek my son; make the wolf and the bear and thepanther go out of their way. Make the buffalo herds to split aroundmy son, Good God! Be strong to keep the Bad God back, and all hisdemons--lull them to sleep while he passes; lull them with soft sounds. "

And the Indian began a dolorous chanting, which he continued throughoutthe night. The lodge-fires died down in the camp, but the muffled intonecame in a hollow sound from the interior of the tepee until the spiritof silence was made more sure, and sleep came over the bad and goodtogether. 

Across the gray-greens of the moonlit plains bobbed and flitted the dimform of the seeker of God's help. 

Now among the dark shadows of the pines, now in the gray sagebrush, lost in the coulees, but ceaselessly on and on, wound this figure of thenight. The wolves sniffed along on the trail, but came no nearer. 

All night long he pursued his way, his muscles playing tirelessly to thedemands of a mind as taut as bowstring. 

Before the morning he had reached the Inyan-kara, a sacred place, andbegun to ascend its pine-clad slopes. It had repulsion for White Otter, it was sacred--full of strange beings not to be approached except in thespiritual way, which was his on this occasion, and thus he approachedit. To this place the shadows had retired, and he was pursuing them. Hewas in mortal terror--every tree spoke out loud to him; the dark placesgave back groans, the night-winds swooped upon him, whispering theirterrible fears. The great underground wildcat meowed from the slopes, the red-winged moon-birds shrilled across the sky, and the stone giantsfrom the cliffs rocked and sounded back to White Otter, until he criedaloud:

"O Good God, come help me. I am White Otter. All the bad are thickaround me; they have stolen my shadow; now they will take me, and Ishall never go across to live in the shadow-land. Come to White Otter, OGood God!"

[Illustration: 04 The wolves sniffed along on the trail, but came no nearer]

A little brown bat whirled round and round the head of theterror-stricken Indian, saying: "I am from God, White Otter. I am cometo you direct from God. I will take care of you. I have your shadowunder my wings. I can fly so fast and crooked that no one can catchup with me. No arrow can catch me, no bullet can find me, in my trickyflight. I have your shadow and I will fly about so fast that thespirit-wildcats and the spirit-birds and the stone giants cannot come upwith me or your shadow, which I carry under my wings. Sit down here inthe dark place under the cliffs and rest. Have no fear. " White Otter sathim down as directed, muffled in his robe. "Keep me safe, do not go awayfrom me, ye little brown bat. I vow to keep you all my life, and to takeyou into the shadow-land hereafter, if ye will keep me from the demonsnow, O little brown bat!" And so praying, he saw the sky pale in theeast as he lay down to sleep. Then he looked all around for his littlebrown bat, which was no more to be seen. 

The daylight brought quiescence to the fasting man, and he sank back, blinking his hollow eyes at his shadow beside him. Its possession lulledhim, and he paid the debt of nature, lying quietly for a long time. 

Consciousness returned slowly. The hot sun beat on the fevered man, and he moved uneasily. To his ears came the far-away beat of a tom-tom, growing nearer and nearer until it mixed with the sound of bells and thehail-like rattle of gourds. Soon he heard the breaking of sticks underthe feet of approaching men, and from under the pines a long processionof men appeared--but they were shadows, like water, and he could see thelandscape beyond them. They were spirit-men. He did not stir. Themoving retinue came up, breaking now into the slow side-step of theghost-dance, and around the form of White Otter gathered these peopleof the other world. They danced "the Crazy Dance" and sang, but the dullorbs of the faster gave no signs of interest. 

"He-eye, he-eye! we have come for you--come to take you to theshadow-land. You will live on a rocky island, where there are no ponies, no women, no food, White Otter. You have no medicine, and the Good Godwill not protect you. We have come for you--hi-ya, hi-ya, hi-yah!"

"I have a medicine, " replied White Otter. "I have the little brown batwhich came from God. "

"He-eye, he-eye! Where is your little brown bat? You do not speakthe truth--you have no little brown bat from God. Come with us, WhiteOtter. " With this, one of the spirit-men strode forward and seized WhiteOtter, who sprang to his feet to grapple with him. They clinched andstrained for the mastery, White Otter and the camp-soldier of thespirit-people. 

"Come to me, little brown bat, " shouted the resisting savage, but theghostly crowd yelled, "Your little brown bat will not come to you, WhiteOtter. "

Still he fought successfully with the spirit-soldier. He strained andtwisted, now felling the ghost, now being felled in turn, but theystaggered again to their feet. Neither was able to conquer. Hourafter hour he resisted the taking of his body from off the earth to bedeposited on the inglorious desert island in the shadow-land. At timeshe grew exhausted and seemed to lie still under the spirit's clutches, but reviving, continued the struggle with what energy he could summon. The westering sun began lengthening the shadows on the Inyan-kara, andwith the cool of evening his strength began to revive. Now he foughtthe ghost with renewed spirit, calling from time to time on hismedicine-bat, till at last when all the shadows had merged and gonetogether, with a whir came the little brown bat, crying "Na-hoin" [Icome]. 

Suddenly all the ghost-people flew away, scattering over the Inyan-kara, screaming, "Hoho, hoho, hoho!" and White Otter sat up on his robe. 

The stone giants echoed in clattering chorus, the spirit-birds swishedthrough the air with a whis-s-s-tling noise, and the whole of the baddemons came back to prowl, since the light had left the world, and theywere no longer afraid. They all sought to circumvent the poor Indian, but the little brown bat circled around and around his head, and he keptsaying: "Come to me, little brown bat. Let White Otter put his hand onyou; come to my hand. "

But the bat said nothing, though it continued to fly around his head. Hewaved his arms widely at it, trying to reach it. With a fortunate sweepit struck his hand, his fingers clutched around it, and as he drew backhis arm he found his little brown bat dead in the vise-like grip. WhiteOtter's medicine had come to him. 

Folding himself in his robe, and still grasping the symbol of the GoodGod's protection, he lay down to sleep. The stone giants ceased theirclamors, and all the world grew still. 

White Otter was sleeping. 

In his dreams came the voice of God, saying: "I have given it, given youthe little brown bat. Wear it always on your scalp-lock, and neverlet it away from you for a moment. Talk to it, ask of it all manner ofquestions, tell it the secrets of your shadow-self, and it will takeyou through battle so fast that no arrow or bullet can hit you. It willsteal you away from the spirits which haunt the night. It will whisperto you concerning the intentions of the women, and your enemies, and itwill make you wise in the council when you are older. If you adhere toit and follow its dictation, it will give you the white hair of old ageon this earth, and bring you to the shadow-land when your turn comes. "

The next day, when the sun had come again, White Otter walked down themountain, and at the foot met his father with ponies and buffalo meat. The old man had followed on his trail, but had gone no farther. 

"I am strong now, father. I can protect my body and my shadow--the GoodGod has come to Wo-pe-ni-in. "

II. The Brown Bat Proves Itself

Big Hair and his son, White Otter, rode home slowly, back throughthe coulees and the pines and the sage-brush to the camp of theChis-chis-chash. The squaws took their ponies when they came to theirlodge. 

Days of listless longing followed the journey to the Inyan-kara insearch of the offices of the Good God, and the worn body and feveredmind of White Otter recovered their normal placidity. The red warrioron his resting-mat sinks in a torpor which a sunning mud-turtle on alog only hopes to attain, but he stores up energy, which must sooner orlater find expression in the most extended physical effort. 

Thus during the days did White Otter eat and sleep, or lie underthe cottonwoods by the creek with his chum, the boy Red Arrow--lyingtogether on the same robe and dreaming as boys will, and talking also, as is the wont of youth, about the things which make a man. They bothhad their medicine--they were good hunters, whom the camp soldiersallowed to accompany the parties in the buffalo-surround. They bothhad a few ponies, which they had stolen from the Absaroke hunters thepreceding autumn, and which had given them a certain boyish distinctionin the camp. But their eager minds yearned for the time to come whenthey should do the deed which would allow them to pass from the boy tothe warrior stage, before which the Indian is in embryo. 

Betaking themselves oft to deserted places, they each consulted his ownmedicine. White Otter had skinned and dried and tanned the skin of thelittle brown bat, and covered it with gaudy porcupine decorations. Thishe had tied to his carefully cultivated scalp-lock, where it switched inthe passing breeze. People in the camp were beginning to say "the littlebrown bat boy" as he passed them by. 

But their medicine conformed to their wishes, as an Indian's medicinemostly has to do, so that they were promised success in theirundertaking. 

Old Big Hair, who sat blinking, knew that the inevitable was going tohappen, but he said no word. He did not advise or admonish. He dotedon his son, and did not want him killed, but that was better than noeagle-plume. 

Still the boys did not consult their relatives in the matter, but on theappointed evening neither turned up at the ancestral tepee, and Big Hairknew that his son had gone out into the world to win his feather. Againhe consulted the medicine-pouch and sang dolorously to lull the spiritsof the night as his boy passed him on his war-trail. 

Having traveled over the tableland and through the pines for a fewmiles, White Otter stopped, saying: "Let us rest here. My medicine saysnot to go farther, as there is danger ahead. The demons of the night arewaiting for us beyond, but my medicine says that if we build a fire thedemons will not come near, and in the morning they will be gone. "

They made a small fire of dead pine sticks and sat around it wrappedin the skins of the gray wolf, with the head and ears of that fearfulanimal capping theirs--unearthly enough to frighten even the monsters ofthe night. 

Old Big Hair had often told his son that he would send him out withsome war-party under a chief who well knew how to make war, and with amedicine-man whose war-medicine was strong; but no war-party was goingthen and youth has no time to waste in waiting. Still, he did not fearpursuit. 

Thus the two human wolves sat around the snapping sticks, eating theirdried buffalo meat. 

"To-morrow, Red Arrow, we will make the war-medicine. I must find a grayspider, which I am to kill, and then if my medicine says go on, I am notafraid, for it came direct from the Good God, who told me I should liveto wear white hair. "

"Yes, " replied Red Arrow, "we will make the medicine. We do not knowthe mysteries of the great war-medicine, but I feel sure that my own isstrong to protect me. I shall talk to a wolf. We shall find a big graywolf, and if as we stand still on the plain he circles us completelyaround, we can go on, and the Gray Horned Thunder-Being and the GreatPipe-Bearing Wolf will march on our either side. But if the wolf doesnot circle us, I do not know what to do. Old Bear-Walks-at-Right, who isthe strongest war-medicine-maker in the Chis-chis-chash, says that whenthe Gray Horned Thunder-Being goes with a war-party, they are sure ofcounting their enemies' scalps, but when the Pipe-Bearing Wolf alsogoes, the enemy cannot strike back, and the Wolf goes only with thepeople of our clan. "

Thus the young men talked to each other, and the demons of the nightjoined in their conversation from among the tree-tops, but got no nearerbecause the fire shot words of warning up to them, and the hearts of theboys were strong to watch the contest and bear it bravely. 

With the first coming of light they started on--seeking the gray spiderand the gray wolf. After much searching through the rotting branchesof the fallen trees, White Otter was heard calling to Red Arrow: "Come!Here is the gray spider, and as I kill him, if he contains blood I shallgo on, but if he does not contain blood my medicine says there is greatdanger, and we must not go on. "

Over the spider stooped the two seekers of truth, while White Otter gotthe spider on the body of the log, where he crushed it with his bow. Theglobular insect burst into a splash of blood, and the young savagethrew back his shoulders with a haughty grunt, saying, "My medicineis strong--we shall go to the middle of the Absaroke village, " and RedArrow gave his muttered assent. 

"Now we must find a wolf, " continued Red Arrow, and they betookthemselves through the pines to the open plains, White Otter followinghim but a step in rear. 

In that day wolves were not hard to find in the buffalo country, as theyswarmed around the herds and they had no enemies. Red Arrow arrogatedto himself the privilege of selecting the wolf. Scanning the expanse, it was not long before their sharp eyes detected ravens hovering overa depression in the plain, but the birds did not swoop down. They knewthat there was a carcass there and wolves, otherwise the birds would nothover, but drop down. Quickly they made their way to the place, and asthey came in range they saw the body of a half-eaten buffalo surroundedby a dozen wolves. The wolves betook themselves slowly off, with manywistful looks behind, but one in particular, more lately arrived at thefeast, lingered in the rear. 

[Illustration: 05 O gray wolf of my clan--shall we have fortune?]

Selecting this one, Red Arrow called: "O gray wolf of my clan, answerme this question. White Otter and I are going to the Absa-roke forscalps--shall we have fortune, or is the Absaroke medicine too strong?"

The wolf began to circle as Red Arrow approached it and the buffalocarcass. Slowly it trotted off to his left hand, whereat the anxiouswarrior followed slowly. 

"Tell me, pretty wolf, shall White Otter's and my scalps be dancedby the Absaroke? Do the enemy see us coming now--do they feel ourpresence?" And the wolf trotted around still to the left. 

"Come, brother. Red Arrow is of your clan. Warn me, if I must go back. "And as the Indian turned, yet striding after the beast, it continued togo away from him, but kept an anxious eye on the dead buffalo meanwhile. 

"Do not be afraid, gray wolf; I would not raise my arm to strike. See, I have laid my bow on the ground. Tell me not to fear the Absaroke, gray wolf, and I promise to kill a fat buffalo-cow for you when we meetagain. "

The wolf had nearly completed his circle by this time, and once againhis follower spoke. 

"Do you fear me because of the skin of the dead wolf you see by my bowon the ground? No, Red Arrow did not kill thy brother. He was murderedby a man of the dog clan, and I did not do it. Speak to me--help meagainst my fears. " And the wolf barked as he trotted around until he hadmade a complete circle of the buffalo, whereat Red Arrow took up his bowand bundle, saying to White Otter, "Now we will go. "

The two then commenced their long quest in search of the victims whichwere to satisfy their ambitions. They followed up the depression in theplains where they had found the buffalo, gained the timber, and walkedall day under its protecting folds. They were a long way from theirenemies' country, but instinctively began the cautious advance which isthe wild-animal nature of an Indian. 

The old buffalo-bulls, elk and deer fled from before them as theymarched. A magpie mocked at them. They stopped while White Otter spokeharshly to it: "You laugh at us, fool-bird, because we are boys, but youshall see when we come back that we are warriors. We will have a scalpto taunt you with. Begone now, before I pierce you with an arrow, you chattering woman-bird. " And the magpie fluttered away before theunwonted address. 

In the late afternoon they saw a band of wolves pull down and kill afawn, and ran to it, saying, "See, the Pipe-Bearing Wolf is with us;he makes the wolves to hunt for us of his clan, " and they despoiled theprey. 

Coming to a shallow creek, they took off their moccasins and wadeddown it for a mile, when they turned into a dry watercourse, which theyfollowed up for a long distance, and then stopped in some thick brushwhich lined its sides. They sat long together on the edge of the bushes, scanning with their piercing eyes the sweep of the plains, but nothingwas there to rouse their anxiety. The wild animals were feedingpeacefully, the sun sank to rest, and no sound came to them but the cryof the night-birds. 

When it was quite dark, they made a small fire in the depths of the cut, threw a small quantity of tobacco into it as a sacrifice, cooked thevenison and went to sleep. 

It was more than mere extension of interest with them; it was morethan ambition's haughtiest fight; it was the sun-dried, wind-shriveled, tried-out atavistic blood-thirst made holy by the approval of the GoodGod they knew. 

The miniature war-party got at last into the Absaroke country. Beforethem lay a big camp--the tepees scattering down the creek-bottom formiles, until lost at a turn of the timber. Eagerly they studied the cutand sweep of the land, the way the tepees dotted it, the moving of thepony herds and the coming and going of the hunters, but most of all themischievous wanderings of the restless Indian boys. Their telescopiceyes penetrated everything. They understood the movements of their foes, for they were of kindred nature with their own. 

Their buffalo-meat was almost gone, and it was dangerous to kill gamenow for fear of attracting the ravens, which would circle overhead andbe seen from the camp. These might attract an investigation from idleand adventurous boys and betray them. 

"Go now; your time has come, " said the little brown bat on White Otter'sscalp-lock. 

"Go now, " echoed Red Arrow's charm. 

When nothing was to be seen of the land but the twinkle of the firesin the camp, they were lying in a deep washout under a bluff, whichoverlooked the hostile camp. Long and silently they sat watching thefires and the people moving about, hearing their hum and chanting as itcame to them on the still air, together with the barking of dogs, thenickering of ponies, and the hollow pounding on a log made by old squawshacking with their hatchets. 

Slowly before the drowse of darkness, the noises quieted and the firesdied down. Red Arrow felt his potent symbols whispering to him. 

"My medicine is telling me what to do, White Otter. "

"What does it say?"

"It says that there is a dangerous mystery in the blue-and-yellow tepeeat the head of the village. It tells me to have great care, " replied RedArrow. 

"Hough, my medicine says go on; I am to be a great warrior, " repliedWhite Otter. 

After a moment Red Arrow exclaimed: "My medicine says go with WhiteOtter, and do what he says. It is good. "

"Come, then; we will take the war-ponies from beside the blue-and-yellowtepee. They belong to a chief and are good. We will strike an Absarokeif we can. Come with me. " White Otter then glided forward in thedarkness toward the camp. When quite near, they waited for a time toallow the dogs to be still, and when they ceased to tongue, they againapproached with greater caution. 

Slowly, so as not to disturb the animals of the Indians, they neared theblue-and-yellow tepee, squatting low to measure its gloom against thesky-line. They were among the picketed ponies, and felt them all overcarefully with their hands. They found the clip-maned war-ponies and cutthe ropes. The Indian dogs made no trouble, as they walked their bootyvery slowly and very quietly away, as though they wandered in search offood. When well out of hearing, they sprang on their backs and circledback to the creek-bottom. 

Nearing this, they heard the occasional inharmonious notes of an Indianflute among the trees. Instantly they recognized it as an Indian lovercalling for his sweetheart to come out from the lodges to him. 

"Hold the ponies, Red Arrow. My medicine tells me to strike, " and WhiteOtter slid from his horse. He passed among the tepees at the end ofthe village, then quickly approached the direction of the noise of theflute. 

The lover heard his approaching footsteps, for White Otter walkedupright until the notes stopped, when he halted to await their renewal. Again the impatient gallant called from the darkness to his hesitatingone, and our warrior advanced with bared knife in one hand, and bow inthe other with an arrow notched. 

When quite near, the Absaroke spoke in his own language, but WhiteOtter, not understanding, made no reply, though advancing rapidly. Alasfor the surging blood which burns a lover's head, for his quick advanceto White Otter discovered for him nothing until, with a series oflightning-like stabs, the knife tore its way into his vitals--once, twice, three times, when, with a wild yell, he sank under his deludedinfatuation. 

He doubtless never knew, but his yell had found its response from thecamp. Feeling quickly, White Otter wound his hand among the thick blackhair of his victim's head, and though it was his first, he made no badwork of the severance of the prize, whereat he ran fast to his chum. Attracted by the noise, Red Arrow rode up, and they were mounted. Criesand yells and barking came from the tepees, but silently they loped awayfrom the confusion--turning into the creek, blinding the trail in thewater for a few yards and regaining the hills from a much-tracked-uppony and buffalo crossing. Over the bluffs and across the hills theymade their way, until they no longer heard the sounds of the camp behindthem. 

Filled with a great exultation, they trotted and loped along until themoon came up, when White Otter spoke for the first time, addressing it:"Pretty Mother of the Night--time of the little brown bat's flight--seewhat I have done. White Otter is no longer a boy. " Then to his pony: "Goon quickly now, pretty little war-pony. You are strong to carry me. Do not lame yourself in the dog-holes. Carry me back to theChis-chis-chash, and I promise the Mother of the Night, now and here, where you can hear me speak, that you shall never carry any man butWhite Otter, and that only in war. "

For three days and nights they rode as rapidly as the ponies couldtravel, resting an hour here and there to refresh themselves. Graduallyrelaxing after this, they assumed the fox-trot of the plains pony; butthey looked many times behind and doubled often in their trail. 

Seeing a band of wolves around a buffalo-bull which was fighting themoff, they rode up and shot arrows into it--the sacrifice to the brotherof the clan who had augured for them. Red Arrow affected to recognizehis old acquaintance in the group. 

As they rode on, White Otter spoke: "I shall wear the eagle-featherstanding up in my scalp-lock, for I struck him with a hand-weaponstanding up. It shall wave above the bat and make him strong. The littlebrown bat will be very brave in the time to come. We took the clippedand painted war-ponies from under the chiefs nose, Red Arrow. "

"Yes, I did that--but my medicine grew weak when it looked at the greatcamp of the Absaroke. Your medicine was very strong, White Otter; thereis no old warrior in the Chis-chis-chash whose is stronger. I shalltake the charcoal again, and see if the Good God won't strengthen mymedicine. "

Time brought the victors in sight of their village, which had movedmeanwhile, and it was late in the evening. 

"Stay here with the ponies, Red Arrow, and I will go into my father'slodge and get red paint for us. We will not enter until to-morrow. "

So White Otter stole into his own tepee by night--told his father of histriumph--got a quantity of vermilion and returned to the hills. When heand Red Arrow had bedaubed themselves and their ponies most liberally, they wrapped the scalp to a lance which he had brought out, thenmoved slowly forward in the morning light on their jaded ponies to thevillage, yelling the long, high notes of the war-whoop. The people ranout to see them come, many young men riding to meet them. The yellingprocession came to the masses of the people, who shrilled in answer, thedogs ki-yied, and old trade-guns boomed. White Otter's chin was high, his eyes burned with a devilish light through the red paint, as hewaved the lance slowly, emitting from time to time above the din hisbattle-cry. 

It was thus that White Otter became a man. 

III. The Bat Devises Mischief Among the Yellow-Eyes

White Otter the boy had been superseded by the man with the uprighteagle-feather, whom people now spoke of as Ho-to-kee-mat-sin, the Bat. The young women of the Chis-chis-chash threw approving glances afterthe Bat as he strode proudly about the camp. He was possessed of alldesirable things conceivable to the red mind. Nothing that ever bestrodea horse was more exquisitely supple than the well-laid form of thisyoung Indian man; his fame as a hunter was great, but the taking of theAbsaroke scalp was transcendent. Still, it was not possible to realizeany matrimonial hopes which he was led to entertain, for his four ponieswould buy no girl fit for him. The captured war-pony, too, was one ofthese, and not to be transferred for any woman. 

The Bat had conjured with himself and conceived the plan of a trip tothe far south--to the land of many horses--but the time was not yet. 

As the year drew on, the Chis-chis-chash moved to the west--to thegreat fall buffalo-hunt--to the mountains where they could gather freshtepee-poles, and with the hope of trade with the wandering trapperbands. To be sure, the Bat had no skins of ponies to barter with them, but good fortune is believed to stand in the path of every young man, somewhere, some time, as he wanders on to meet it. Delayed ambition didnot sour the days for the Indian. He knew that the ponies and the womenand the chieftainship would come in the natural way; besides which, washe not already a warrior worth pointing at?

He accompanied the hunters when they made the buffalo-surround, wherethe bellowing herds shook the dusty air and made the land to thunderwhile the Bat flew in swift spirals like his prototype. Many a carcasslay with his arrows driven deep, while the squaws of Big Hair's lodgesought the private mark of the Bat on them. 

The big moving camp of the Chis-chis-chash was strung over theplains--squaws, dogs, fat little boys toddling after possible prairiedogs, tepee ponies, pack-animals with gaudy squaw trappings, old chiefsstalking along in their dignified buffalo-robes--and a swarm of youngwarriors riding far on either side. 

The Bat and Red Arrow's lusty fire had carried them far in the front, and as they slowly raised the brow of a hill they saw in the shimmerof the distance a cavalcade with many two-wheeled carts--all draggingwearily over the country. 

"The Yellow-Eyes!" said the Bat. 

"Yes, " replied Red Arrow. "They always march in the way the wild ducksfly--going hither and yon to see what is happening in the land. Buttheir medicine is very strong; I have heard the old men say it. "

"Hough! it may be, but is not the medicine of the Chis-chis-chashalso strong? Why do we not strike them, Red Arrow? That I could neverunderstand. They have many guns, blankets, paints, many strongponies and the strong water, which we might take, " added the Bat, inperplexity. 

"Yes, true, we might take all, but the old men say that the Yellow-Eyeswould not come again next green grass--we would make them afraid. Theywould no more bring us the powder and guns or the knives. What couldwe do without iron arrow-heads? Do you remember how hard it was to makebone arrowheads, when we were boys and could not get the iron? Then, theYellow-Eyes are not so many as the Chis-chis-chash, and they are afraidof us. No, we must not make them more timid, " replied the wise RedArrow. 

"But we may steal a gun or a strong pony, when they do not look, "continued the indomitable Bat. 

"Yes--we will try. "

"I will go down the hill, and make my pony go around in a circle so thatthe camp may send the warriors out to us, " saying which, the Bat rodethe danger-signal, and the Chis-chis-chash riders came scurrying overthe dry grass, leaving lines of white dust in long marks behind them. Having assembled to the number of a hundred or so, the chiefs helda long consultation, each talking loudly from his horse, with manygestures. After some minutes, the head war-chief declared in a high, rough voice that the man must go to the Yellow-Eyes with the peace-sign, and that they must not do anything to make the Yellow-Eyes afraid. Thewhite men had many guns, and if they feared the Indians they would fireon them, and it would be impossible to get near the powder and paintsand knives which were in the carts. 

The warriors took each from a little bag his paints and plumes. Sitting in the grass, they decorated themselves until they assumed allhues--some red, and others half white or red across the face, while theponies came in for streaks and daubs, grotesque as tropic birds. 

So over the hill rode the line of naked men, their ponies dancing withexcitement, while ahead of them a half-breed man skimmed along bearing asmall bush over his head. The cavalcade of the Yellow-Eyes had halted ina compact mass, awaiting the oncoming Indians. They had dismounted andgone out on the sides away from the carts, where they squatted quietlyin the grass. This was what the Yellow-Eyes always did in war, unlikeIndians, who diffused themselves on their speeding ponies, sailing likehawks. 

A warrior of the Yellow-Eyes came to meet them, waving a white clothfrom his gun-barrel after the manner of his people, and the twopeace-bearers shook hands. Breaking into a run, the red line swept on, their ponies' legs beating the ground in a vibratory whirl, their plumesswishing back in a rush of air, and with yelps which made the white mendraw their guns into a menacing position. 

At a motion of the chief's arm, the line stopped. The Yellow-Eyed menrose slowly from the grass and rested on their long rifles, while theirchief came forward. 

For a long time the two head men sat on their ponies in front of thehorsemen, speaking together with their hands. Not a sound was to beheard but the occasional stamp of a pony's hoof on the hard ground. The beady eyes of the Chis-chis-chash beamed malevolently on the whitechief--the blood-thirst, the warrior's itch, was upon them. 

After an understanding had been arrived at, the Indian war-chiefturned to his people and spoke. "We will go back to our village. TheYellow-Eyes do not want us among their carts--they are afraid. We willcamp near by them to-night, and tomorrow we will exchange gifts. Goback, Chis-chis-chash, or the white chief says it is war. We do notwant war. " This and much more said the chief and his older men to theimpulsive braves, whose uncontrollable appetites had been whetted by thesight of the carts. The white man was firm and the Indians drew off toawait the coming of the village. 

The two camps were pitched that night two miles apart; the Yellow-Eyesintrenched behind their packs and carts, while the Indians, being inoverwhelming strength, did much as usual, except that the camp-soldiersdrove the irrepressible boys back, not minding to beat their ponieswith their whips when they were slow to go. There was nothing that a boycould do except obey when the camp-soldier spoke to him. He was the onerestraint they had, the only one. 

But as a mark of honor, the Bat and Red Arrow were given thedistinguished honor of observing the Yellow-Eyed camp all night, to noteits movements if any occurred, and with high hearts they sat undera hill-top all through the cold darkness, and their souls were muchchastened by resisting the impulses to run off the white man's ponies, which they conceived to be a very possible undertaking. The Bat evendeclared that if he ever became a chief this policy of inaction would befollowed by one more suited to pony-loving young men. 

Nothing having occurred, they returned before daylight to their own campso to inform the war-chief. 

That day the Chis-chis-chash crowded around the barricade of theYellow-Eyes, but were admitted only a few at a time. They received manysmall presents of coffee and sugar, and traded what ponies and robesthey could. At last it became the time for the Bat to go into thetrappers' circle. He noted the piles of bales and boxes as he passedin, a veritable mountain of wealth; he saw the tall white men in theirbuckskin and white blanket suits, befringed and beribboned_, _ theirlong, light hair, their bushy beards, and each carrying a well-oiledrifle. Ah, a rifle! That was what the Bat wanted; it displaced for thetime all other thoughts of the young warrior. He had no robes and camenaked among the traders--they noted him--only an Indian boy, and whenall his group had bartered what they had, the half-breed who had rodewith the peace branch spoke to him, interpreting:

"The white chief wants to know if you want to buy anything. "

"Yes. Tell the white chief that I must have a gun, and some powder andball. "

"What has the boy to give for a gun?" asked a long-bearded leader. 

"A pony--a fast buffalo-pony, " replied our hero through the half-breed. 

"One pony is not enough for a gun; he must give three ponies. He is tooyoung to have three ponies, " replied the trader. 

"Say to the Yellow-Eye that I will give him two ponies, " risked the Bat. 

"No, no; he says three ponies, and you will not get them for less. Thewhite chief means what he says. He says you must leave here now withthose people so that older men can come and trade. "

"Let me see the gun, " demanded the boy. A gun was necessary for theBat's future progression. 

A subordinate was directed to show a gun to him, which he did by takinghim one side and pulling one from a cart. It was a long, yellow-stockedsmoothbore, with a flintlock. It had many brass tacks driven into thestock, and was bright in its cheap newness. As the Bat took it in hishand he felt a nervous thrill, such as he had not experienced since thenight he had pulled the dripping hair from the Absaroke. He felt itall over, smoothing it with his hand; he cocked and snapped it; and thelittle brown bat on his scalp-lock fairly yelled: "Get your ponies, getyour ponies--you must have the gun. "

Returning the gun, the Bat ran out, and after a time came back withhis three ponies, which he drove up to the white man's pen, saying inChis-chis-chash: "Here are my ponies. Give me the gun. "

The white chief glanced at the boy as he sat there on a sturdy littleclip-maned war-pony--the one he had stolen from the Absaroke. He spoke, and the interpreter continued: "The trader says he will take the pony youare riding as one of the three. "

"Tell him that I say I would not give this pony for all the goods I see. Here are my three ponies; now let him give me the gun before he makeshimself a liar, " and the boy warrior wore himself into a frenzy ofexcitement as he yelled: "Tell him if he does not give me the gun hewill feel this war-pony in the dark, when he travels; tell him he willnot see this war-pony, but he will feel him when he counts his ponies atdaylight. He is a liar. "

"The white chief says he will take the war-pony in place of threeponies, and give you a gun, with much powder and many balls. "

"Tell the Yellow-Eye he is a liar, with the lie hot on his lips, " andthe Bat grew quiet to all outward appearance. 

After speaking to the trader, the interpreter waved at the naked youth, sitting there on his war-pony: "Go away--you are a boy, and you keep thewarriors from trading. "

With a few motions of the arms, so quickly done that the interpreter hadnot yet turned away his eye, the Bat had an arrow drawn to its head onhis leveled bow, and covering the white chief. 

Indians sprang between; white men cocked their rifles; two camp-soldiersrushed to the enraged Bat and led his pony quietly away, driving thethree ponies after him. 

The trading progressed throughout the day, and at night the Indians allcame home, but no one saw the Bat in his father's lodge, and also RedArrow was missing. All the Indians had heard of how the white trader hadlied to the boy, and they knew the retribution must come. The tradingwas over; the white men had packed up their goods, and had shaken handswith the chiefs and head men, promising to come again when the grass wasgreen. 

[Illustration: 06 The interpreter waved at the naked youth]

The Chis-chis-chash were busy during the ensuing days following thebuffalo, and their dogs grew fat on the leavings of the carcasses. Thewhite traders drew their weary line over the rolling hills, travelingas rapidly as possible to get westward of the mountains before the snowsencompassed them. But by night and by day, on their little flank in rearor far in front, rode two vermilion warrior-boys, on painted ponies, and one with an eagle-plume upright in his scalp-lock. By night two graywolves stood upward among the trees or lay in the plum-branches nearenough to see and to hear the living talk of the Yellow-Eyes. 

Old Delaware hunters in the caravan told the white chief that they hadseen swift pony-tracks as they hunted through the hills; and that, too, many times. The tracks showed that the ponies were strong and wentquickly--faster than they could follow on their jaded mounts. The whitechief must not trust the solitude. 

But the trailing buffalo soon blotted out the pony-marks; the whitemen saw only the sailing hawks, and heard only bellowing and howlingat night. Their natures responded to the lull, until two horse-herders, sitting in the willows, grew eager in a discussion, and did not noticeat once that the ponies and mules were traveling rapidly away to thebluffs. When the distance to which the ponies had roamed drew theirattention at last, they looked hard and put away their pipes andgathered up their ropes. Two ponies ran hither and thither behind thehorses. There was method in their movements--were they wild stallions?The white men moved out toward the herd, still gazing ardently; theysaw one of these ponies turn quickly, and as he did so a naked figureshifted from one side to the other of his back. 

"Indians! Indians!"

A pistol was fired--the herders galloped after. 

The horse-thieves sat up on their ponies, and the long, tremulous notesof the war-whoop were faintly borne on the wind to the camp of theYellow-Eyes. Looking out across the plains, they saw the herd break intoa wild stampede, while behind them sped the Bat and Red Arrow, wavinglong-lashed whips, to the ends of which were suspended blown-upbuffalo-bladders, which struck the hard ground with sharp, explosivethumps, rebounding and striking again. The horses were terrorized, but, being worn down, could not draw away from the swift and supplewar-steeds. There were more than two hundred beasts, and the white menwere practically afoot. 

Many riders joined the pursuit; a few lame horses fell out of the herdand out of the race--but it could have only one ending with the longstart. Mile by mile the darkness was coming on, so that when they couldno longer see, the white pursuers could hear the beat of hoofs, untilthat, too, passed--and their horses were gone. 

That night there was gloom and dejection around the camp-fires insidethe ring of carts. Some recalled the boy on the war-pony with theleveled bow; some even whispered that Mr. McIntish had lied to the boy, but no one dared say that out loud. The factor stormed and damned, butfinally gathered what men he could mount and prepared to follow nextday. 

Follow he did, but the buffalo had stamped out the trail, and at last, baffled and made to go slow by the blinded sign, he gave up the trail, to hunt for the Chis-chis-chash village, where he would try for justiceat the hands of the head men. 

After seven days' journey he struck the carcasses left in the line ofthe Indians' march, and soon came up with their camp, which heentered with appropriate ceremony, followed by his retinue--half-breedinterpreter, Delaware trailers, French horse-herders, and two realYellow-Eyed men--white Rocky Mountain trappers. 

He sought the head chief, and they all gathered in the council tepee. There they smoked and passed the pipe. The squaws brought kettlesof buffalo-meat, and the eager youngsters crowded the door until acamp-soldier stood in the way to bar them back. The subchiefs sat inbronze calm, with their robes drawn in all dignity about them. 

When all was ready, Mr. McIntish stood in the middle of the lodge andspoke with great warmth and feeling, telling them that Chis-chis-chashwarriors had stolen his horse-herd--that he had traced it to their campand demanded its return. He accused them of perfidy, and warned themthat from thence on no more traders would ever come into their country, but would give their guns to the Absaroke, who would thus be ableto overwhelm them in war. No more would the chiefs drink of thespring-water they loved so well--no more would a white man pass the pipewith the Chis-chis-chash if justice was not done; and much more whichelicited only meaningless grunts from the stoic ring of listeners. 

When he had finished and sat down, the head chief arose slowly, andstepping from the folds of his robe, he began slowly to talk, makingmany gestures. "If the white chief had tracked the stolen ponies to hiscamp, let him come out to the Indian pony-herds and point them out. Hecould take his horses. "

The face of the trader grew hard as he faced the snare into which thechief had led him, and the lodge was filled with silence. 

The camp-soldier at the entrance was brushed aside, and with a rapidstride a young Indian gained the center of the lodge and stood up verystraight in his nakedness. He began slowly, with senatorial force madefierce by resolve. 

"The white chief is a liar. He lied to me about the gun; he has comeinto the council tepee of the Chis-chis-chash and lied to all thechiefs. He did not trail the stolen horses to this camp. He will notfind them in our pony-herds. "

He stopped awaiting the interpreter. A murmur of grunts went round. 

"I--the boy--I stole all the white chief's ponies, in the broaddaylight, with his whole camp looking at me. I did not come in the dark. He is not worthy of that. He is a liar, and there is a shadow across hiseyes. The ponies are not here. They are far away--where the poor blindYellow-Eyes cannot see them even in dreams. There is no man of theChis-chis-chash here who knows where the horses are. Before the liargets his horses again, he will have his mouth set on straight, " and theBat turned slowly around, sweeping the circle with his eyes to note theeffect of his first speech, but there was no sound. 

Again the trader ventured on his wrongs--charged the responsibility ofthe Bat's actions on the Chis-chis-chash, and pleaded for justice. 

The aged head chief again arose to reply, saying he was sorry forwhat had occurred, but he reminded McIntish that the young warriorhad convicted him of forged words. What would the white chief do torecompense the wrong if his horses were returned? He also stated thatit was not in his power to find the horses, and that only the young mancould do that. 

Springing again to his feet, with all the animation of resolution, theBat's voice clicked in savage gutturals. "Yes, it is only with myselfthat the white liar can talk. If the chiefs and warriors of my tribewere to take off my hide with their knives--if they were to give me tothe Yellow-Eyes to be burnt with fire--I could not tell where the ponieslie hidden. My medicine will blind your eyes as does the north wind whenhe comes laden with snow. 

"I will tell the white man how he can have his ponies back. He can handover to me now the bright new gun which lies by his side. It is apretty gun, better than any Indian has. With it, his powder-horn and hisbullet-bag must go. 

"If he does this, he can have back all his horses, except those I chooseto keep. Is it good? I will not say it again. I have spoken. "

[Illustration: 07 I will tell the white man how he can have his ponies back]

The boy warrior stood with arms dropped at his sides, very straight inthe middle of the tent, the light from the smoke hole illuminating thetop of his body, while his eye searched the traders. 

McIntish gazed through his bushy eyebrows at the victor. His burntskin turned an ashen-green; his right hand worked nervously along hisgun-barrel. Thus he sat for a long time, the boy standing quietly, andno one moved in the lodge. 

With many arrested motions, McIntish raised the rifle until it rested onits butt; then he threw it from himself, and it fell with a crashacross the dead ashes of the fire, in front of the Bat. Stripping hispowder-horn and pouch off his body, violently he flung them after, andthe Bat quickly rescued them from among the ashes. Gathering the tokensand girding them about his body, the Bat continued: "If the white liarwill march up this river one day and stop on the big meadows by the loghouse, which has no fire in it; if he will keep his men quietly by thelog house, where they can be seen at all times; if he will stay thereone day, he will see his ponies coming to him. I am not a boy; I amnot a man with two tongues; I am a warrior. Go, now--before thecamp-soldiers beat you with sticks. "

IV. The New Lodge

The Yellow-Eyes had departed, and at the end of four days the Bat andRed Arrow drove a band of thirty ponies and mules upon the herd-grounds, where they proceeded to cut them into two bunches--fifteen horses foreach young man. This was not a bad beginning in life, where ponies androbes were the things reckoned. The Bat got down from his horse andtossed a little brother onto it, telling him to look after them. Thecopper-colored midget swelled perceptibly as he loped away after theBat's nineteen horses, for the twentieth, which was the war-pony, wastaken to be picketed by Big Hair's Lodge. 

As the Bat stalked among the Chis-chis-chash, he was greeted often--alleyes turned to him. No mere boys dared longer to be familiar; they onlystood modestly, and paid the tribute to greatness which much staringdenotes. The white man's new rifle lay across his left arm, his paintedrobe dragged on the ground, his eagle-feather waved perpendicularlyabove the dried Bat's skin, the sacred red paint of war bloodiedhis whole face, and a rope and a whip--symbols of his success withhorses--dangled in his right hand, while behind him followed the smartwar-pony, covered with vermilion hand-prints as thickly as the spotson a brook-trout. The squaws ran from their fleshing, their choppingor their other work to look at the warrior who made all the camp talk. Wisdom mellowed by age, in the forms of certain old men, sat back andthought disturbedly of the future, as is the wont of those who havelittle time to live. They feared for the trade with the Yellow-Eyes, forno Chis-chis-chash could forge iron into guns and knives, which werethe arbiter between the tribes. This the Bat had brought upon them. Butstill they thought more than they said; warriors as promising as thisyoung one did not often appear. 

There was a feast at the lodge. The Bat told his exploits to thewarriors, as he strode about the night-fire in the tepee, waving hisarms, giving his war-yell until he split the air and made his listeners'ears ring. The medicine Bat had made him strong; it had opened the wayand he had proved his faith. He sang while a man beat on a dried skindrum:

"Hi-ha-s' yehe's' yeye'!

'Hi-he-e' yehe' e' yeye'!

'Hi' niso' nihu'-Hi' yeye'!

'Hi' niso' nihu'-Hi' yeye'!"

And the yelping chorus came from the fire-lit circle, "Hi ya--hi ya--hi--ye'ye'!--ya'--ya'--ya'--ya!--e' e' e'. "

On the morrow, men from the military order of the "red lodges, " the"miayuma, " came to the Bat with charcoal, and he fasted many days beforeundergoing his initiation. The sacred symbols of the body, their signsand ceremonies, were given him, and he had become a pillar in theChis-chis-chash social structure. 

The nights were growing cold, and occasional bleak winds blew down fromthe great mountains, warning the tribe to be about its mission. Theloads of dry meat made the horses weary, when the camp was broken;the tepee-poles were bright and new, and the hair began to grow on theponies. 

One day, as they moved, they could see far ahead on the plains thecolorless walls of Fort Laramie, and the wise-men feared for theirreception, but the pillage of the traders' horses sat lightly onthe people. The Yellow-Eyes should have a care how they treated theChis-chis-chash. It was in their power to put out the white man's fires. The Bat's people were an arrogant band, and held their heads high in thepresence of aliens. Their hands were laid heavily and at once on anyonewho stood in their path. All the plains tribes, the French Indians atthe posts and the Yellow-Eyed trapper-bands stood in awe of them. Withthe exception of the chief, the people had never been inside of thesecond gate at Laramie. They traded through a hole in the wall, andeven then the bourgeois Papin thought he played with fire. Their haughtysouls did not brook refusal when the trader denied them the arrangementof the barter. 

The tribe encamped, and got rid of what ponies, robes and meats it coulddispose of for guns and steel weapons, and "made whisky. " The squawsconcealed the arms while the warriors raged, but the Chis-chis-chash inthat day were able to withstand the new vices of the white men betterthan most people of the plains. 

On one occasion, the Bat was standing with a few chiefs before thegateway of the fort. M. Papin opened the passage and invited them toenter. Proudly the tall tribesmen walked among the _engages_--seeming topay no heed, but the eye of an Indian misses nothing. The surroundingswere new and strange to the young man. The thick walls seemed to hisvagabond mind to be built to shield cowards. The white men were createdonly to bring goods to the Indians. They were weak, but their medicinewas wonderful. It could make the knives and guns, which God had deniedto the Bat's people. They were to be tolerated; they were few innumber--he had not seen over a hundred of them in all his life. Scattered here and there about the post were women, who consorted withthe _engages_--half-breeds from the Mandaus and Dela-wares, Sioux andmany other kinds of squaws; but the Chis-chis-chash had never sold awoman to the traders. That was a pride with them. 

[Illustration: 08 Nothing but cheerful looks followed the Bat]

The sisterhood of all the world will look at a handsome man and smilepleasantly; so nothing but cheerful looks followed the Bat as he passedthe women who sat working by the doorways. They were not ill-favored, these comforters of the French-Creole workmen, and were dressed inbright calicos and red strouding, plentifully adorned with bright beads. The boy was beginning to feel a subtle weakening in their presence. Hisfierce barbarism softened, and he began to think of taking one. But heput it aside as a weakness--this giving of ponies for these white men'scast-offs. That thought was unworthy of him--a trade was not his wildway of possessing things. 

He stood quietly leaning against a door on Papin's balcony, observingthe men laboring about the enclosure, his lip curling upward with finecontempt. The "dogs" were hewing with axes about some newly made carts, or rushing around on errands as slaves are made to do. Everyone was busyand did not notice him in his brown study. 

From within the room near by he heard a woman sing a few notes in anunknown tongue. Without moving a muscle of his face he stepped insidethe room, and when his eye became accustomed to the light, saw a youngsquaw, who sat beading, and wore a dress superior to that of the others. She stared a moment and then smiled. The Bat stood motionless for a longtime regarding her, and she dropped her gaze to her needlework. 

"I' nisto' niwon (You were humming), " spoke the statued brave, but shedid not understand. 

Again came the clicking gutturals of the harsh Chis-chis-chash tongue:"Whose squaw are you?"--which was followed by the sign-talk familiar toall Indians in those days. 

The woman rose, opening her hand toward him and hissing for silence. Going to the door, she looked into the sunlighted court, and, pointingto the factor who was directing workmen, replied, "Papin. " He understood. 

She talked by signs as she drew back, pointing to the Bat, and thenran her hand across her own throat as though she held a knife, and thenlaughed while her eyes sparkled. 

Again he understood, and for the first time that day he smiled. Thereare no preliminaries when a savage warrior concludes to act. Theabruptness of the Bat's love-making left room for few words, and hisattentions were not repulsed except that the fear of her liege lord outby the carts made her flutter to escape that she might reassure herself. She was once again covered by the sweep of the warrior's robe, and whatthey whispered there, standing in its folds, no man can tell. The abruptentrance of Papin drowned all other thoughts, and filled the quiet fortwith a whirl of struggles and yells, in which all joined, even to thedogs. 

The outcome was that the Bat found himself thrown ignominiously intothe dust outside the walls, and the gate slammed after him. He gatheredhimself together and looked around. No one of his people had seen themelee from which he had emerged so ingloriously, yet humiliationwas terrible. Nothing like this had occurred before. Cowardly Frenchhalf-breeds had laid their hands on the warrior's body, even on hissacred bat and eagle-plume; and they had been content to throw him awayas though he were a bone--merely to be rid of him. 

His rage was so great that he was in a torpor; he did not even speak, but walked away hearing the shrieks of the squaw being beaten by Papin. 

Going to the camp, he got a pony and rode to the hills, where hedismounted and sat down. The day passed, the night came, and morningfound the Bat still sitting there. 

He seemed not to have moved. His eyes burned with the steady glare ofthe great cats until, allowing his robe to fall away, he brought out hisfirebag and lighted his pipe. Standing up, he blew a mouthful of smoketo each of the four corners of the world; then lowered his head insilence for a long while. He had recovered himself now. The Bat nolonger shrieked, but counciled coldly for revenge. His shadow beside himwas blood-red as he gazed at it. 

Presently he mounted and rode toward camp; his eyes danced the devil'sdance as they wandered over the battlements of Fort Laramie. He wanteda river of blood--he wanted to break the bones of the whites with stonehatchets--he wanted to torture with fire. He would have the girl now atany cost. 

After eating at Big Hair's lodge, he wandered over to the Fort. He saidnot a word to anyone as he passed. An old chief came out of the gate, turned the corner, saw the Bat, and said: "The white chief says youtried to steal his squaw. His heart is cold toward our people. He willno longer trade with us. What have you done?"

The Bat's set eyes gazed at the old man, and he made no reply, but stoodleaning against the walls while the chief passed on. 

No one noticed him, and he did not move for hours. He was under thatpart of the wall behind which was the room of the woman, and notunexpectedly he heard a voice from above in the strange language whichhe did not understand. Looking up, he saw that she was on the roof. Hemotioned her to come down to him, at the same time taking his rifle fromunder his robe. 

The distance was four times her height, but she quickly produced arawhide lariat, which she began to adjust to a timber that had beenexposed in the roof, dirt having been washed away. Many times she lookedback anxiously, fearful of pursuit, until, testing the knot and seemingsatisfied, she threw her body over the edge and slid down. 

The Bat patted her on the back, and instinctively they fled as fast asthe woman could run until out of rifle-shot, when her new brave stayedher flight and made her go slowly that they might not attract attention. They got at last to the pony-herds, where the Bat found his littlebrother with his bunch of ponies. Taking the cherished war-pony and twoothers, he mounted his new woman on one, while he led the other besidehis own. They galloped to the hills. Looking back over the interveningmiles of plain, their sharp eyes could see people running about likeants, in great perplexity and excitement. Papin had discovered his woes, and the two lovers laughed loud and long. He had made his slaves layviolent hands on the Bat and he had lashed the girl, Seet-se-be-a(Mid-day Sun), with a pony whip, but he had lost his woman. 

Much as the Bat yearned to steep his hands in the gore of Papin, yetthe exigencies of the girl's escape made it impossible now, as he fearedpursuit. On the mountain-ridge they stopped, watching for the pursuingparty from the Fort, but the Cheyennes swarmed around and evidentlyPapin was perturbed. 

[Illustration: 09 The ceremony of the Fastest Horse]

So they watched and talked, and fondled each other, the fierce Cheyenneboy and Minataree girl--for she proved to be of that tribe--and theywere married by the ancient rites of the ceremony of the Fastest Horse. 

Shortly the tribe moved away to its wintering-grounds, the young couplefollowing after. The Bat lacked the inclination to stop long enough tomurder Papin; he deferred that to the gray future, when the "Mid-daySun" did not warm him so. 

As they entered the lodges, they were greeted with answering yells, andthe sickening gossip of his misadventure at Laramie was forgotten whenthey saw his willing captive. The fierce old women swarmed around, yelling at Seet-se-be-a in no complimentary way, but the fury ofpossible mothers-in-law stopped without the sweep of the Bat's elk-hornpony whip. 

Before many days there was a new tepee among the "Red Lodges, " and everymorning Seet-se-be-a set a lance and shield up beside the door, so thatpeople should know by the devices that the Bat lived there. 

V. "The Kites and the Crows"

The Bat had passed the boy stage. He was a Chis-chis-chash warrior now, of agile body and eager mind. No man's medicine looked more sharplyafter his physical form and shadow-self than did the Bat's; no young manwas quicker in the surround; no war-pony could scrabble to the lariatahead of his in the races. He had borne more bravely in the sun-dancethan all others, and those who had done the ceremony of "smoking hisshield" had heard the thick bull's-hide promise that no arrow or bulletshould ever reach the Bat. He lost the contents of his lodge at thegame of the plum-stones--all the robes that Seet-se-be-a had fleshed andsoftened, but more often his squaw had to bring a pack-pony down to thegamble and pile it high with his winnings. He was much looked up toin the warrior class of the Red Lodges, which contained the tried-outbraves of the Cheyenne tribe; moreover old men--wise ones--men who stoodfor all there was in the Chis-chis-chash, talked to him occasionally outof their pipes, throwing measuring glances from under lowering brows inhis direction to feel if he had the secret Power of the Eyes. 

The year passed until the snow fell no longer and Big Hair said themedicine chiefs had called it "The Falling Stars Winter" and had paintedthe sign on the sacred robes. The new grass changed from yellow to agreen velvet, while the long hair blew off the horses' hides in bunchesand their shrunken flanks filled up with fat. As Nature awoke from thechill and began to circulate the Indians responded to its feel. Theystalked among the pony herds, saying to each other: "By the middle ofthe moon of the new Elk Horns, these big dogs will carry us to war. There the enemy will know that the Chis-chis-chash did not die in thesnow. There will be blood in our path this grass. "

Red Arrow and the Bat prayed often together to the Good God for fortunein war, as they sat in the lodge running their eyes along their arrows, picking those which were straightest, and singing:

 "This arrow is straight This arrow is straight It will kill us a man It will kill us a man--"

and the Bat boasted to his chum: "When I come to the enemy, I shall gonearer than any other Red Lodge man. I shall have more scalps to danceand no bullet or arrow can stop the Bat when he strikes his pony withthe whip. " Red Arrow believed this as much as the boaster did, for menmust believe they will do these things before they do them. "Red Arrow, we will not go with a big war-party. We will go with Iron Horn's band oftwenty warriors. Then next winter at the warriors' feasts when we tellwhat we did, we will count for something. Red Arrow, we will see for thefirst time the great war-medicine. "

The boys of the camp herded the ponies where the grass was strongest, and the warriors watched them grow. It was the policy of the tribe tohang together in a mass, against the coming of the enemy, for the betterprotection of the women and the little ones, but no chiefs or councilswere strong enough to stop the yearning of the young Cheyennes formilitary glory. All self-esteem, all applause, all power and greatness, came only down that fearful road--the war trail. Despite the pleadingsof tribal policy Iron Horn, a noted war- and mystery-man, secretlyorganized his twenty men for glorious death or splendid triumph. Theirorders went forth in whispers. "By the full of the moon at the placewhere the Drowned Buffalo water tumbled over the rocks one day'spony-travel to the west. "

Not even Seet-se-be-a knew why the Bat was not sitting back against hiswillow-mat in the gray morning when she got up to make the kettle boil, but she had a woman's instinct which made her raise the flap to lookout. The two war-ponies were gone. Glancing again behind the robes ofhis bed she saw, too, that the oiled rifle was missing. Quickly she ranto the lodge of Red Arrow's father, wailing, "My man has gone, my manhas gone--his fast ponies are gone--his gun is gone, " and all the dogsbarked and ran about in the shadows while Red Arrow's mother appeared inthe hole in the tepee, also wailing, "My boy has gone, my boy has gone, "and the village woke up in a tumult. Everyone understood. The dogsbarked, the women wailed, the children cried, the magpies flutteredoverhead while the wolves answered back in piercing yells from theplains beyond. 

Big Hair sat up and filled his pipe. He placed his medicine-bag on thepole before him and blew smoke to the four sides of the earth and to thetop of the lodge saying: "Make my boy strong. Make his heart brave, O Good Gods--take his pony over the dog-holes--make him see the enemyfirst!" Again he blew the smoke to the deities and continued to praythus for an hour until the sun-lit camp was quiet and the chiefs satunder a giant cotton-wood, devising new plans to keep the young men athome. 

Meanwhile from many points the destined warriors loped over the rollinglandscape to the rendezvous. Tirelessly all day long they rose and fellas the ponies ate up the distance to the Drowned Buffalo, stoppingonly at the creeks to water the horses. By twos and threes they met, galloping together--speaking not. The moon rose big and red overtheir backs, the wolves stopped howling and scurried to one side--theceaseless thud of the falling hoofs continued monotonously, broken onlyby the crack of a lash across a horse's flank. 

At midnight the faithful twenty men were still seated in a row aroundIron Horn while the horses, too tired to eat, hung their heads. Theold chief dismissed his war-party saying: "To-morrow we will make themystery--we will find out whether the Good Gods will go with us to waror let us go alone. "

Sunrise found the ponies feeding quietly, having recovered themselves, while the robed aspirants sat in a circle; the grass having been removedfrom the enclosed space and leveled down. 

A young man filled the long medicine-pipe and Iron Horn blew sacrificialpuffs about him, passing it in, saying: "Let no man touch the pipe whohas eaten meat since the beginning of the last sun. If there are anysuch he must be gone--the Good Gods do not speak to full men. " But thepipe made its way about the ring without stopping. 

Iron Horn then walked behind the circle sticking up medicine-arrows inthe earth--arrows made sacred by contact with the Great Medicine of theChis-chis-chash and there would hold the Bad Gods in check while theGood Gods counseled. 

Resuming his seat, he spoke in a harsh, guttural clicking: "What is saidin this circle must never be known to any man who does not sit here now. The Bad Gods will hear what the Good Gods say in such an event and theman who tells against them will be deserted by the Good Gods forever. Every man must tell all his secrets--all the things he has thought abouthis brothers since the last war-medicine; all the things he has donewith the women of the tribe; all that the Gods have whispered in hisdreams. He must tell all and forever say no more, " and Iron Horn restedon his words for a moment before continuing his confession. 

"Brothers, I am a great medicineman--no arrow can touch me--I do notfear men. I am too old for the women to look upon. I did not say it atthe time but when the sun was low on the land last winter I made it turnblue for a time. I made it cold in the land. Our horses were poor andwhen I made the sun blue we crusted the buffalo and killed many with ourlances. Brothers, it was I who made the sun blue in the winter. 

"Brothers, I love you all--I shall say no more, " and Iron Horn threwtobacco on the earth in front of him. 

A young man next to him dropped his robe from about his body and withfierce visage spoke excitedly, for it was his first confession, and hisIndian secretiveness was straining under the ordeal. It was mostly aboutgallantries and dreams--all made like the confessions which followed. They were the deeds and thoughts common to young Indian men. Theyministered to the curiosity of people whose world lay within the campingcircle of their small tribe, and they were as truthful as a fear of Godcould make them, except the dreams, and they too were real to the Indianmind. 

The men now began to paint themselves and to take their paraphernaliafrom their war-bags and put it on. Iron Horn said: "Brothers--when it isdark I will put a medicine-arrow Into the ground where my feet are now, and if in the morning it has not moved we will go back to the lodges;but if it has moved, we will go in the direction in which it points. When we start toward the enemy no man must eat, drink or sit down byday, no matter how long or fatiguing the march; if he halts for a momenthe must turn his face toward his own country so that the Gods may seethat it is his wish to return there. We must sleep with our own facestoward our village. No two men must lie covered by the same robe. Hemust not ride or walk in a beaten path lest the spirit of the path gorunning on ahead of us to warn the enemy, and if by chance we do, wemust come to the big medicine and rub it on the horses' legs to wardoff the danger. " This said, Iron Horn said much more to his youngbraves--all the demon fears which the savage mind conjures up in itscontact with the supernatural, together with stated forms of decorationsto be painted on the ponies, and then he dismissed them, saying: "Cometo the circle before the moon rises while it is yet dark, but meanwhilesit each man alone and in silence and we will see what the Good Gods dowith the arrows. "

The warriors led their ponies off to various points in the savage gorgeand sat motionless the live-long day while the river rushed ceaselesslyover the wild rocks and the ravens soared in the blue heavens. 

By night they came gliding back--picking their way among the rocks andstood by the bared earth of the mystery place. The chief struck a lightand bending over saw the arrow lying out in the middle of the space manyfeet away from where he had placed it. The smooth earth was dotted bythe tracks of coyotes but the arrow pointed nearly southwest, and it wasthe way they must take. Rising, he pointed, saying: "The Good Gods saywe must go this way--where they point. The medicine is strong--the Godssent their little medicine-wolves to show us. 

"We will make the sacrifices and then we will go. We shall strike theenemy. "

They struck a pole in the center of the circle, and when the moon roseeach warrior approached it and either hung some piece of rag or buckskinon it or put various implements at its foot, muttering meanwhile prayersfor protection and success and rubbing the pole with his weapons tovitalize them spiritually. 

By the full light of the moon the mounted men, each leading a horse, rode slowly off one after the other, into the hills, and they did nothalt until nearly morning when they again sat in a magic circle and tookheed of the medicine-arrows before lying down to sleep in a long row, facing toward the village. 

The day following found the small war-party advancing cautiously, preceded far in advance on its flanks by watchful scouts. They wereall eyes for any hunting bands of Utes or Shoshones and might see theYellow-Eyes trooping along in a line as the ducks fly. 

For days marched the band, winding through the hills or splashingthrough the flat river until early one morning they observed one of thescouts far in advance flashing a looking-glass from a hilltop. Lashingtheir horses they bore on toward him, dashing down the cut banks atreckless speed or clambering up them helter-skelter. No inequalities ofground opposed their desperate speed. 

Arriving at the place they rode boldly up to the mounted scout and fardown on the plains saw three Yellow-Eyes driving twelve pack-animalsheavily loaded. They paused to repaint their faces and put the sacredwar-marks on the ponies, not forgetting to tie up their tails beforecontinuing the mad charge. The poor beaver-hunters saw the on-coming, knew their danger and instantly huddled their horses and began droppingtheir packs. They had selected a slight knoll of the prairie and beforemany minutes had a rude barricade constructed with their packages. Dropping behind this they awaited the Indians with freshly primed riflesand pistols. 

The Chis-chis-chash rode in a perfect line and when within a hundredyards gave shrill ki-yi's, lashed their whips and the ponies clatteredthrough the dust. It would be all over with the three luckless trappersin an instant. When nearly half the distance had been consumed threerifles cracked. Iron Horn and another warrior reeled on their mounts butclung desperately, stopping in no way the rush. In an instant when itseemed as if the Indians were about to trample the Yellow-Eyes, a thintrail of fire ran along the grass from the barricade and with a blindingflash a keg of powder exploded with terrific force right under the frontfeet of the rushing ponies. Pistols cracked from behind the pile ofroped goods. Four ponies lay kicking on the grass together with sixwrithing men, all blackened, bleeding and scorched. The other poniesreeled away from the shock--running hopelessly from the scene withtheir unresting and half-stunned riders. All but one, for the Bat pulleddesperately at his hair-lariat which was tied to the under jaw of thehorse, striking his pony across the head with his elk-horn whip, and, lashing fiercely, he rushed the pony right to the barricade. Firing hisrifle into it swerving, he struck the bunch of trapper-horses which hadalready begun to trot away from the turbulent scene, and drove them offin triumph. He alone had risen superior to the shock of the white man'sfire trap. 

Four of the wounded Indians got slowly to their feet, one after theother, and walked painfully away. The whites had reloaded meanwhile andfatally shot the last man as he was nearly out of range. 

When the defeated party came together, it made a mystic circle in theturf of open prairie, not over three arrow flights from the Yellow-Eyes, and there sat down. In the center lay the Indian dead and threemore, sightless, with their hair singed off and their bodies horriblyscorched, while Iron Horn was stretched on a blanket, shot through thebody and singing weakly his death-song. 

"Let the Bat take the medicine--he is a strong warrior--the burstingfire did not stop him. He ate the fire. I am a great warrior--I am agreat medicine-man, but I could not eat the fire. Brothers, the scalpsof the beaver hunters must dry in the Red Lodges. " Then the dyingwarrior became incoherent and scarcely mumbled. The Bat took black paintfrom his fire bag and rubbed it on the face of the dying man while thedecreased circle of warriors yelped the death-cry dolorously. For anhour this continued, rising and rising in scales until the sadnesshad changed to fury. The Bat held the medicine toward the sun saying"Mia-yu-ma--nis heva--la ma--nih. Nis tako navero na' hiko' no hi (RedLodges--he has taken pity on us--he will make you strong--I am strong). "

[Illustration: 10 He rushed the pony right to the barricade]

They took the dead and wounded and deposited them near where theled-horses were kept. The injured men were attended to, and the deadburied carefully in robes. 

"One warrior lies dead near the feet of Yellow-Eyes; if they get hisscalp he will go to the hungry islands in the middle of the Big Waterand we shall never see him in the spirit-land. We must not let themtouch his hair, brothers. If the Yellow-Eyes come from behind theirpacks we must charge--we must eat the flying fire or all be rubbed out. If they do not come out the ravens will not have to wait long for thefeast. " Thus said the Bat. He had kept his word about going farthertoward the enemy than any other and was now moved to resort to strategy. He did not martial his warriors in a line but deployed them about thecitadel of the plains. That place, robbed of its horrors, gave no signof life except a burned and injured pony which half raised itself andslowly moved its head from side to side in its agony. But behind itthere was promise of deadly rifles and the bursting fire. 

The warriors stood like vultures on the plains, by twos and threes, smoking and feeding their ponies from their lariats. They spoke of thechief no longer as the Bat, but called him "Fire Eater, " or "The man whoeats the flying fire. " The ravens hovered about the place and wise graywolves sat haunched in a still larger ring without. Slowly the sun movedacross the heavens. The scene was quiet and pitiful. 

Night came on, but nothing happened. Before the moon rose out of thedarkness a rifle flashed behind the bales, when again the quiet becameintensified by the explosion. The wolves sang their lullaby of death, but on the prairie that was as the ceaseless, peaceful surging of thewaves on the ocean sand. 

When the warriors returned in small parties to their camp forrefreshment they saw the dead body of Owl Bear--he who had fallenoutside the barricade of the Yellow-Eyes. The "Fire Eater" had broughtit in during the night--having approached and carried it away--drawingthe fire of the rifle but saving the hair and shadow-self of hisbrother. 

For seven days the Chis-chis-chash stood about the doomed place. Twicethey had approached it and had lost another warrior, shot by the fatalrifle of the beaver-men. Then they had drawn off and given up in theface of the deadly shooting--concluding to let nature work for thevictory. 

Becoming eager and restless on the last day, the "Fire Eater" woundedthe white war-party. Splendidly painted and with feather hanging fromhis tail, he galloped out toward the fort. His brothers, seeingthis rashness, closed in with him, but no sign of life came from thestronghold. 

Boldly he rode up to the edge of the bales of goods, and glancing oversaw the swelled and blackened bodies of the three beaver men and knewby the skinned lips and staring eyes that thirst had done its work. Thebraves gathered, but no man dismounted and one by one they turned androde away. "The bad spirits of the dead may get into our bodies--comeaway--come away--the sun shines now, but we must be far away when thenight sets in. Our medicine-arrows will keep them off after that, " saidthe Fire Eater. 

Much cast down the Red Lodge warriors gathered up their dead and rodeslowly back toward the village. 

On the morning of the second day the Cheyennes awoke to find the FireEater gone, but he had left his horses on their hands. "The youngchief's heart is bad. He has gone away by himself. He will not want usto follow him. He cannot go into the village with our dead and wear themourning paint, " whispered they, one to another. 

This was true--for the fierce spirit of the young man could not brookdefeat. The Chis-chis-chash should never see blackened ashes on a cheekwhich was only fitted for the red paint. The shield of the Fire Eatershould never face to the lance--the little brown bat flapped fiercely inthe wind and screamed for blood and scalp braids. The warrior traveledlazily on his journey--light-hearted and fiercely resolved. 

After many days of wolfish travel he saw signs of the vicinage ofthe Shoshone Indians. They were a hungry band who had come out of themountains and were hunting the buffalo. He followed the pony trackswhere they were not lost in the buffalo's trails, finding picked bones, bits of castaway clothing and other signs until he saw the scouts of theenemy riding about the hills. Approaching carefully in the early nightand morning he found the camp and lay watching for depressions in thefall of some bluffs. But the young men were ceaselessly active, and hedid not see an opportunity to approach. During the night he withdrew toa pine-clad rocky fortress which promised better concealment, and hissurprise was great in the morning to see the Sho-shones preparing tomake a buffalo-surround in the valley immediately in front of him. Fromall directions they came and encompassed the buffalo below. 

The Fire Eater carefully pressed down the tuft of loose hair which satupright on the crown of his head after the manner of his people, andleaving his rifles he walked down toward the seething dust-blown jumblewhere the hunters were shearing their bewildered game. No one noticedhim, and the dust blew over him from the milling herd. Presently ariderless pony came by, and seizing its lariat he sprang on its back. He rode through the whirling dust into the surround and approaching anexcited and preoccupied Shoshone stabbed him repeatedly in the back. TheIndian yelled, but no one paid any attention in the turmoil. The FireEater slung his victim across his pony, taking his scalp. He seized hislance and pony and rode slowly away toward the bluffs. After securinghis rifle he gained the timber and galloped away. 

On his road he met a belated scout of the enemy coming slowly on a jadedhorse. This man suspected nothing until the Fire Eater raised his rifle, when he turned away to fly. It was too late and a second scalp soondangled at the victor's belt. He did not take the tired horse for it wasuseless. 

Swiftly he rode now for he knew that pursuit was sure, but if one wasinstituted it never came up and before many days the Cheyennes rodealong his own tepees, waving the emblem of his daring, and the camp grewnoisy with exultation. The mourning paint was washed from each faceand the old pipe-men said: "The Bat will be a great leader in war--hismedicine is very strong and he eats fire. " The chiefs and councilwithheld their discipline, and the Fire Eater grew to be a great manin the little world of the Chis-chis-chash, though his affairsproportionately were as the "Battles of the Kites and Crows. "

[Illustration: 11 The Fire Eater slung his victim across his pony, taking his scalp]

VI. The Fire Eater's Bad Medicine

The Chis-chis-chash had remembered through many "green grasses" that theFire Eater had proven himself superior to the wrath of the Bad Gods whohaunt the way of the men who go out for what the Good Gods offer--theponies, the women and the scalps. He had become a sub-chief in the RedLodge military clan. He had brought many painted war-bands into the bigcamp with the scalps of their tribal enemies dangling from their lanceheads. The village had danced often over the results of his victories. Four wives now dressed and decorated his buffalo robes. The seams of hisclothes were black with the hair of his enemies, as he often boasted, and it required four boys to herd his ponies. His gun was reddened, andthere were twenty-four painted pipes on his shield indicative ofthe numbers who had gone down before him in war. In the time of theceremonies, his chief's war-bonnet dragged on the ground and was brightwith the painted feathers which belonged to a victor. He hated theYellow-Eyes, not going often to their posts for trade, and like a trueIndian warrior he despised a beaver trap. It was conceded by old menthat time would take the Fire Eater near to the head chieftainship, while at all times the young men were ready to follow him to the camp ofthe foe. 

One day in the time of the Yellow-grass the Fire Eater had sat forhours, without moving, beside his tepee, looking vacantly out across thehills and speaking to no human being. His good squaws and even his muchcherished children went about the camping-space quietly, not caring todisturb the master. He was tired of the lazy sunshine of home; the smallcackle of his women, one to another, annoyed him; he was strong with thegluttony of the kettle which was ever boiling; the longing for fierceaction and the blood-thirst had taken possession of him. Many times hereached up with his hand to the crown of his head and patted the skin ofthe little brown bat, which was his medicine. This constantly talked tohim in his brown study, saying: "Look--look at the war-ponies--the bigdogs are fat and kick at each other as they stand on the lariats. Theyare saying you are too old for them; they are saying that the Fire Eaterwill ride on a travvis. They think that the red hands will no more bepainted on their flanks. "

But the warrior, still with his sleepy dog-stare fixed on the vacantdistance, answered the bat-skin: "We will seek the help of the Good Godsto-night; we will see if the path is clear before us. My shadow is veryblack beside me here--I am strong. " Thus the Indian and his medicineeasily agreed with each other in these spiritual conversations--whichthing gave the Fire Eater added respect for the keeper of his body andhis shadow-self. 

Far into the night the preoccupied Indian leaned against his resting-matwatching the little flames leaping from the split sticks as his youngestsquaw laid them on the fire. The flickering yellows sang to him:

 "The fire does not sit still, The fire does not sit still-- Come, brother, take up the pony-whip, Come, brother, take up the pony-whip, "

and much more that was soothing to his mood. 

After a time he sprang to his feet and drove the woman out of the lodge. Untying his war-bags he produced a white buffalo-robe and arranged itto sit on. This was next to the bat-skin his strongest protector. Whenseated on it he lost contact with the earth--he was elevated above allits influences. Having arranged his gun, shield and war-bonnet overcertain medicine-arrows the sacred bat-skin was placed on top. Thislast had in the lapse of years been worn to a mere shred and was nowcontained in a neat buckskin bag highly ornamented with work done bysquaws. Lighting his medicine-pipe, after having filled it in the formalmanner due on such occasions, he blew the sacrificial whiffs to the fourcorners of the world, to the upper realms and to the lower placesand then addressed the Good Gods. All the mundane influences haddeparted--even his body had been left behind. He was in communion withthe spirit world--lost in the expectancy of revelation. He sang inmonotonous lines, repeating his extemporizations after the Indianmanner, and was addressing the Thunder Being--the great bird so muchsought by warriors. He sat long before his prayers were heeded, but atlast could hear the rain patter on the dry sides of the tepee and heknew that the Thunder Bird had broken through the air to let therain fall. A great wind moaned through the encampment and in crushingreverberations the Thunder Bird spoke to the Fire Eater: "Go--go to theAbsaroke--take up your pony-whip--your gun wants to talk to them--yourponies squeal on the ropes--your bat says no arrow or bullet can findhim--you will find me over your head in time of danger. When you hear meroar across the sky and see my eyes flash fire--sit down and be still--Iam driving your enemies back. When you come again back to the villageyou must sacrifice many robes and ponies to me. " Lower and lower spokethe great bird as he passed onward--the rain ceased to beat--the splitsticks no longer burned--the Fire Eater put up the sacred things and wasalone in the darkness. 

In the early morning the devotee stalked over to the greatwar-prophet--a mystery man of the tribe who could see especially faron contemplated war-paths. The sun was bright when they were done withtheir conversation, but the signs were favorable to the spirit of war. The Thunder Bird had on the preceding night also told the war-prophetthat the Chis-chis-chash had sat too long in their lodges, which was thereason why he had come to urge activity. 

Accordingly--without having gone near the boiled meat--the Fire Eatertook the war-pipe around the Red Lodges and twenty young men gladlysmoked it. In council of the secret clan the war-prophet and thesub-chief voiced for war. The old chiefs and the wise men grown stifffrom riding and conservative toward a useless waste of young warriors, blinked their beady eyes in protest but they did not imperil theirpopularity by advice to the contrary. The young men's blood-thirst anddesire for distinction could not be curbed. So the war-prophet repairedto his secret lodge to make the mystery, while the warriors fasteduntil it was done. Everything about the expedition had been faithfullyattended to; all the divinities had been duly consulted; the councilhad legitimatized it; the Fire Eater had been appointed leader; thewar-prophet had the sacred protection forthcoming, and no band hadlately gone forth from the village with so many assurances of success. 

For many days the little streak of ponies wound over the rolling brownland toward the north. Each man rode a swift horse and led anotheralongside. Far ahead ranged the cautious spies; no sailing hawk, nowailing coyote, no blade of grass did anything which was not reasonedout by mind or noted by their watchful eyes. 

The Absaroke were the friends of the Yellow-Eyes who had a little fortat the mouth of the Muscleshell, where they gave their guns and gaudsin great quantities. The Chis-chis-chash despised the men who wore hats. They barely tolerated and half protected their own traders. Nothingseemed so desirable as to despoil the Absaroke traders. They had oftenspied on the fort but always found the protecting Absaroke too numerous. The scouts of the Fire Eater, however, found immense trace of theirenemy's main camp as it moved up the valley of the Yellow-stone. Theyknew that the Absaroke had finished their yellow-grass trading andhad gone to hunt the buffalo. They hoped to find the little fortunprotected. Accordingly they sped on toward that point, which uponarrival they found sitting innocently alone in the grand landscape. Nota tepee was to be seen. 

Having carefully reconnoitered and considered the place, they left theirhorses in a dry washout and crawled toward it through the sage brush. As the sky grew pale toward the early sun there was no sign of discoveryfrom its silent pickets. When within a hundred yards, in response tothe commanding war-cry of the Fire Eater, they rose like ghosts fromthe sage and charged fast on the stockade. The gray logs stood stifflyunresponsive and gave no answering shots or yells as the Indians sweptupon them. The gate was high, but the attacking force crept up oneach other's bent backs as they strove for the interior. A tremendouscommotion arose; rifles blazed inside and out. Two or three Indianssprang over but were shot down. Hatchets hacked at the timbers;gun-muzzles and drawn arrows sought the crevices in the logs; piercingyells rose above the hoarse shouts of the besieged for the stockade wasfull of white men. 

The savages had not noticed a great number of Mackinaw boats drawn up onthe river bank and concealed by low bushes. These belonged to a brigadeof freighters who were temporarily housed in the post. As the surprisedwhites and creoles swarmed to the defense the Indians found themselvesoutnumbered three to one. The Fire Eater, seeing several braves fallbefore the ever-increasing fire from the palisades and knowing he couldnot scale the barrier, ordered a withdrawal. The beaten band drew slowlyaway carrying the stricken brothers. 

The medicine was bad--the war-prophet had not had free communicationwith the mystery of the Good Gods. Some one had allowed himself to walkin a beaten path or had violated the sacred rights of the warpath, andthe spirit of secrecy had left their moccasins. The skin of the littlebrown bat did not comfort the Fire Eater in his fallen state. He castmany burning glances back at the logs, now becoming mellowed by themorning light. The sun had apparently thrown his protection over themand the omen struck home to the wondering, savage mind. He rememberedthat the old men had always said that the medicine of the Yellow-Eyeswas very strong and that they always fought insensibly like the graybears. The flashing rifles which had blown their bodies back from thefort had astonished these Indians less by their execution than by theindication they gave that the powers of darkness were not with them. They looked askance at the Fire Eater for their ill-success. He wasenraged--a sudden madness had overpowered and destroyed his sense of thesituation. One of those moods had come upon the savage child-mind whenthe surging blood made his eyes gleam vacantly like the great cats. 

Slowly the dismayed band withdrew to the washout--casting backwardglances at the walls which had beaten down their ambitions and wouldpaint the tribes with ashes and blood-sacrifices for the lost. Whenthere, they sat about dejectedly, finding no impulse to do more. 

From out of the west, in response to their blue despondency, the cloudsblew over the plains--the thunder rumbled--the rain came splashingand beating and then fell in blinding sheets. The Fire Eater aroseand standing on the edge of the bank raised his arms in thanks to theThunder Bird for his interposition in their behalf, saying: "Brothers, the Thunder Bird has come to his poor warriors to drive our enemiesback as was promised to the prophet. He will put out the fires of theYellow-Eyes, behind their medicine-logs. We are not afraid--our medicineis strong. "

The rain poured for a time but abated gradually as the crashing ThunderBird hurried away to the rising sun, and with a final dash it separatedinto drops, letting the sunlight through the departing drizzle. Thewarriors began drying their robes and their weapons--preoccupied withthe worries so much dampness had wrought for their powder and bowstrings. Suddenly one of them raised his head, deerlike, to listen. Aswild things they all responded, and the group of men was statuesqueas it listened to the beat of horses' hoofs. As a flock of blackbirdsleaves a bush--with one motion--the statuary dissolved into akaleidoscopic twinkle of movement as the warriors grabbed and ran andgathered. They sought their ponies' lariats, but before they could mounta hundred mounted Yellow-Eyes swept down upon them, circling away asthe Indians sowed their shots among them. But they were surrounded. TheThunder Bird had lied to the Chis-chis-chash--he had chosen to sacrificethe Fire Eater and the twenty Red-Lodge braves. There was now no thoughtof arresting the blow--there was but to die as their people always didin war. The keepers of the Red Lodge counting robes might cross the redpipes out with black, but they should not wash them out entirely. 

[Illustration: 12 The Fire Eater raised his arms to the Thunder Bird]

The beaver-men--the traders--the creoles and the half-breeds slid fromtheir horses and showered their bullets over the washout, throwingclouds of wet dirt over the braves crowding under its banks. Thefrightened Indian ponies swarmed out of one end of the cut, but weresoon brought back and herded together in the sagebrush by the moccasinboys of the Yellow-Eyes. 

In maddened bewilderment the Fire Eater leaped upon the flat plain, madeinsulting gestures and shouted defiant words in his own language at theflashing guns. Above the turmoil could be heard the harsh, jerky voicewhich came from the bowels of the warrior rather than from his lips. Nobullet found him as he stepped back into cover, more composed than whenhe had gone out. The nervous thrill had expanded itself in the speech. To his own mind the Fire Eater was a dead man; his medicine haddeparted; his spiritual protection was gone. He recognized that tolive his few remaining hours was all--he had only to do the mere act ofdying; and that he would do as his demon nature willed it. His last sunwas looking down upon him. 

The Yellow-Eyes knew their quarry well. They recognized of old thedifference between an Indian cooped up in a hole in a flat plain and onemounted on a swift war-pony, with a free start, and the whole plain fora race-track. They advanced with all caution--crawling, sneaking throughsage and tufted grass. Occasionally as an Indian exposed himself tofire, a swift bullet from a beaver-man's long rifle crashed into hishead, rolling him back with oozing brains. The slugs and ounce ballsslapped into the dirt from the muskets of the creole _engages_ and theywere losing warrior after warrior. By cutting the dirt with their knivesthe Indians dug into the banks, avoiding a fire which raked the washout;and by throwing the dirt up on either side they protected their heads asthey raised to fire. 

A man walking over the flats by midday would have seen nothing butfeeding ponies and occasional flashes of fire close to the grass, but aflying raven would have gloated over a scene of many future gorges. It would have seen many lying on their backs in the ditch--lying quitestill and gazing up at his wheeling flight with stony gaze. 

The white men had no means of knowing how successful had been therifle-fire and they hesitated to crawl closer. Each party in turntaunted the other in unknown tongues, but they well knew that thestrange voices carried fearful insult from the loud defiance of theintonation. The gray bears or the mountain cats were as merciful asany there. As the sun started on its downward course the nature of theGothic blood asserted itself. The white men had sat still until theycould sit still no longer. They had fasted too long. They talked to eachother through the sagebrush, and this is what happened when they castthe dice between Death and Dinner: A tall, long-haired man clad inthe fringed buckskin of a Rocky Mountain trapper of the period, passed slowly around the circle of the siege, shouting loudly to thoseconcealed among the brush and grasses. What he said the Chis-chis-chashdid not know, but they could see him pointing at them continually. 

The Fire Eater raised his voice: "Brothers, keep your guns full offire; lay all your arrows beside you; put your war-ax under you. TheYellow-Eyes are going to kill us as we do the buffalo in a surround. Brothers, if the Thunder Bird does not come our fires will go out now. We will take many to the spirit-land. "

Having completed the circle the tall white man waved a red blanket andstarted on a run toward the place where the Indians lay. From all sidessprang the besiegers converging with flying feet. When nearly in contactthe Indians fired their guns, killing and wounding. The whites inturn excitedly emptied theirs and through the smoke with lowered headscharged like the buffalo. The bowstrings twanged and the ravens couldonly see the lightning sweep of axes and furious gun-butts going overthe pall of mingled dust and powder smoke. If the ravens were watchingthey would have seen nothing more except a single naked Indian run outof the turmoil, and after a quick glance backward speed away through thesagebrush. He could not fight for victory now; he only sought to escape;he was deserted by his Gods; he ran on the tightened muscles of adesperate hope. 

A bunch of horses had been left huddled by a squad of the enemy who hadgone in with the charge on post and for these the Fire Eater made. Noone seemed to notice the lone runner until a small herds-boy spied him, and though he raised his childish treble it made no impression. The FireEater picked up a dropped pony-whip and leading two ponies out of thebunch, mounted and lashed away. He passed the screaming boy withinkilling distance, but it was an evil day. 

Before the small herder's voice asserted itself he was long out ofrifleshot though not out of pony-reach. 

A dozen men dashed after him. The warrior plied his whip mercilesslyin alternate slaps on each pony-quarter and the bareback savage drewsteadily away to the hills. For many miles the white men lathered theirhorses after, but one by one gave up the chase. The dice doubtless saiddinner as against an Indian with a double mount and many will think theygave a wise choice. 

On flew the Fire Eater. Confusion had come to him. The bat on hisscalp-lock said never a word. His heart was upside down within him. Hisshadow flew away before him. The great mystery of his tribe had betrayedand bewitched him. The Yellow-Eyed medicine would find him yet. 

From a high divide the fugitive stopped beside a great rock to blowhis horses and he turned his eyes on the scene of ill-fate. He saw theYellow-Eyes ride slowly back to their medicine-logs--he saw the ravenslighting down on the dry watercourse and for a long time he stood--notthinking--only gazing heavy-headed and vacant. 

After a time he pulled his ponies' heads up from the grass and trottedthem away. Growing composed, with his blood stilled, thoughts cameslowly. He thanked the little brown bat when it reminded him of hissavior. A furious flood of disappointment overcame him when he thoughtof his lifelong ambitions as a warrior--now only dry, white ashes. 

Could he go back to the village and tell all? The council of the RedLodges would not listen to his voice as they had before. When he spokethey would cast their eyes on the ground in sorrow. The Thunder Bird haddemanded a sacrifice from him when he returned. He could not bear thethoughts of the wailing women and the screaming children and the old mensmoking in silence as he passed through the camp. He could not wash theashes from the faces of his people. The thoughts of it all deadened hissoul, and he turned his ponies to the west. He would not go back. He haddied with his warriors. 

When the lodges lay covered with snow the Chis-chis-chash sang songs tothe absent ones of the Fire Eater's band. Through the long, cold nightsthe women sat rocking and begging the gods to bring them back theirwarriors. The "green-grass" came and the prophet of the Red Lodgesadmitted that the medicine spoke no more of the absent band. By"yellow-grass" hope grew cold in the village and socially they hadreadjusted themselves. It had happened in times past that even after twosnows had come and gone warriors had found the path back to the camp, but now men saw the ghost of the Fire Eater in dreams, together with hislost warriors. 

Another snow passed and still another. The Past had grown white in theshadows of an all-enduring Present when the Chis-chis-chash began tohear vague tales from their traders of a mighty war-chief who had comedown to the Shoshones from the clouds. He was a great "wakan" and hespoke the same language as the Chis-chis-chash. This chief said he hadbeen a Cheyenne in his former life on earth, but had been sent backto be a Shoshone for another life. The Indians were overcome by aninsatiate curiosity to see this being and urged the traders to bringhim from the Shoshones--promising to protect and honor him. The tradersdominated by avarice, hoping to better their business, humored thestories and enlarged upon them. They half understood that the mysteryof life and death are inextricably mixed in savage minds--that they comeand go, passing in every form from bears to inanimate things or livingin ghosts which grow out of a lodge fire. So for heavy considerations inbeaver skins they sent representatives to the Sho-shones and there foran armful of baubles they prevailed upon those people to allow theirsupernatural war-chief to visit his other race out on the great meadows. 

"If in the time of the next green-grass, " said the trader, "theChis-chis-chash have enough beaver, we will bring their brother who diedback to their camp. We will lead him into the tribal council. If on theother hand they do not have enough skins, our medicine will be weak. "

In the following spring the tribe gathered at the appointed timeand place, camping near the post. The big council-lodge waserected--everything was arranged--the great ceremonial-pipe was filledand the council-fire kept smoldering. Many packages of beaver-skins wereunloaded by squaws at the gate of the traders and all important personsforegathered in the lodge. 

When the pipe had passed slowly and in form the head-chief asked thetrader if he saw beaver enough outside his window. This one replied thathe did and sent for the man who had been dead. 

The council sat in silence with its eyes upon the ground. From thecommotion outside they felt an awe of the strange approach. Never beforehad the Chis-chis-chash been so near the great mystery. The door-flapwas lifted and a fully painted, gorgeously arrayed warrior stepped intothe centre of the circle and stood silently with raised chin. 

There was a loud murmur on the outside but the lodge was like a grave. Aloud grunt came from one man--followed by another until the hollow wallsgave back like a hundred tom-toms. They recognized the Fire Eater, butno Indian calls another by his name. 

Raising his hand with the dignity which Indians have in excess of allother men the Fire Eater said: "Brothers, it makes my heart big to lookat you again. I have been dead but I came to life again. I was sent backby the gods to complete another life on earth. The Thunder Bird madethe Yellow-Eyes kill all my band when we went against the Absaroke. Mymedicine grew weak before the white man's medicine. Brothers, theyare very strong. Always beware of the medicine of the traders and thebeaver-men. They are fools and women themselves but the gods give themguns and other medicine things. He can make them see what is to happenlong before he tells the Indians. They can see us before we come andknow what we are thinking about. They have brought me back to my people, and my medicine says I must be a Chis-chis-chash until I die again. Brothers, I have made my talk. "

VII. Among the Pony-Soldiers

The burial scaffold of the Fire Eater's father had rotted and fallendown with years. Time had even bent his own shoulders, filled his bellyand shrunken his flanks. He now had two sons who were of sufficient ageto have forgotten their first sun-dance medicine, so long had they beenwarriors of distinction. He also had boys and girls of less years, buta child of five snows was the only thing which could relax the old man'sfeatures, set hard with thought and time and toil. 

Evil days had come to the Buffalo Indians. The Yellow-Eyes swarmed inthe Indian country, and although the red warriors rode their poniesthin in war, they could not drive the invaders away. The little bands oftraders and beaver-men who came to the camps of the Fire Eater's boyhoodwith open hands were succeeded by immense trains of wagons, drawn bythe white man's buffalo. The trains wound endlessly toward the settingsun--paying no heed to the Indians. Yellow-Eyes came to the mountainswhere they dug and washed for the white man's great medicine, theyellow-iron. The fire boats came up the great river with a noise likethe Thunder Bird--firing big medicine-guns which shot twice at onedischarge. 

The Fire Eater, with his brothers of the Chis-chis-chash, had run offwith the horses and buffalo of these helpless Yellow-Eyes until theywanted no more. They had knocked them on the head with battle-axesin order to save powder. They had burned the grass in front of theslow-moving trains and sat on the hills laughing at the discomfiturecaused by the playful fires. Notwithstanding, all their efforts did notcheck the ceaseless flow and a vague feeling of alarm began to pervadethem. 

Talking men came to them and spoke of their Great Father in Washington. It made them laugh. These talking men gave them enough blankets andmedicine goods to make the travvis poles squeak under the burden. Whenthese men also told them that they must live like white men, the secretcouncil lost its dignity entirely and roared long and loud at the quaintsuggestion. 

Steadily flowed the stream of wagons over the plains though the Indiansplied them with ax and rifle and fire. Sober-minded old chiefs began torecall many prophecies of the poor trappers who told how their peopleswarmed behind them and would soon come on. 

Then began to appear great lines of the Great Father's warriors--alldressed alike and marching steadily with their wagons drawn along byhalf-brothers to the horse. These men built log forts on the Indianlands and they had come to stay. 

The time for action had come. Runners went through the tribes callinggreat councils which made a universal peace between the red brothers. Many and fierce were the fights with these blue soldiers of the GreatFather. The Indians slew them by hundreds at times and were slainin turn. In a grand assault on some of these which lay behindmedicine-wagons and shot medicine-guns the Indian dead blackened thegrass and the white soldiers gave them bad dreams for many days. 

The talking-wives and the fire wagon found their way, and the whitehunters slew the buffalo of the Indians by millions, for their hides. 

Every year brought more soldiers who made more log forts from whichthey emerged with their wagons, dragging after the trace of theChis-chis-chash camp, and disturbing the buffalo and the elk. To besure, the soldiers never came up because the squaws could move thetravvis more rapidly than the others could their wagons, but it tookmany young men to watch their movements and keep the grass burningbefore them. Since the Indians had made the wagon fight, they no longertried to charge the soldiers, thinking it easier to avoid them. Theyoung men were made to run their ponies around the Yellow-Eyes before itwas light enough in the morning for them to shoot, and they always foundthe Yellow-Eyes heavy with sleep; but they did not grapple with thewhite soldiers because they found them too slow to run away and enemieswho always fought wildly, like bears. Occasionally the Indians caughtone of them alive, staked him out on a hill, and burned him in sight ofhis camp. These Yellow-Eyes were poor warriors, for they always whinedand yelled under the torture. Half-breeds who came from the camp of theYellow-Eyes said that this sight always made the white soldiers' bloodturn to water. Still the invaders continued to crawl slowly along thedusty valleys. The buffalo did not come up from the south--from thecaves of the Good Gods where they were made--in such numbers as theyonce did, and the marching soldiers frightened those which did and keptthem away. The young warriors never wearied of the excitement ofthese times, with its perpetual war-party, but old men remembered theprophecies of the beaver-men and that the times had changed. 

The Fire Eater, as he talked to old Weasel Bear over their pipes andkettles, said:

"Brother, we used to think Yellow Horse had lost the Power of his Eyeswhen he came from his journey with the talking white man. We thoughthe had been made to dream by the Yellow-Eyes. We have seen the talkingwives and we have seen the fire wagon. We have seen the white mencome until there are as many as all the warriors in this camp. All thefoolish half-breeds say it is as the talking men say. Brother, I haveseen in my dreams that there are more of them than the buffalo. Theyhave their caves to the east as the buffalo do to the south, and theycome out of them in the time of the green-grass just as the buffalo do. The Bad Gods send the Yellow-Eyes and the Good Gods send the buffalo. The gods are fighting each other in the air. "

Weasel Bear smoked in silence until he had digested the thoughts of hisfriend, when he replied:

"Your talk is good. Two grasses ago I was with a war-party and we caughta white man between the bends of the Tois-ta-to-e-o. He had four eyesand also a medicine-box which we did not touch. All the hair on his headand face was white as the snow. While we were making the fire to burnhim with, he talked much strong talk. Before we could burn him he sankdown at our feet and died a medicine-death. We all ran away. Bad Arm, the half-breed who was with us, said the man had prophesied that beforeten snows all our fires would be put out by his people. Brother, thatman had the Power of the Eyes. I looked at him strong while he talked. Ihave seen him in my dreams--I am afraid. "

Weasel Bear continued:

"You hear our young scouts who come in tell us how the whitesoldiers are coming in droves this grass. There are walking-soldiers, pony-soldiers, big guns on wheels and more wagons than they can count. Many of their scalps shall dry in our lodges, but, brother, we cannotkill them all. "

In accordance with the tribal agreements the Chis-chis-chash joinedtheir camp with the Dakota, and together both tribes moved about thebuffalo range. Every day the scouts came on reeking ponies to thechiefs. The soldiers were everywhere marching toward the camps. Thecouncil fire was always smoldering. The Dakota and Chis-chis-chashchiefs sat in a dense ring while Sitting Bull, Gall, Crazy Horse and allthe strong men talked. They regarded the menace with awe; they fearedfor the camp with its women and children, but each voice was for war. Itwas no longer poor beaver-men or toiling bull-wagons; it was crowds ofsoldiers coming up every valley toward the villages which before hadbeen remote and unmolested. If any soothsayer could penetrate the veilof the future he held his peace in the councils. The Indians tiedup their ponies' tails for the struggle and painted for war. Threecartridges were all a fine buffalo robe would bring from a trader andeven then it was hard to get them; but though the lodges had few robesmany brass-bound bullets reposed in the war-bags. 

The old thrill came over the Fire Eater in these agitated times. Hecould no longer leap upon his pony at full gallop, but rode a saddle. The lodge chafed him until he gathered up a few young men who had beenacting as spies and trotted forth on a coyote prowl. For many days theymade their way toward the south. One day as he sat smoking by a smallfire on a mountain-top, somewhat wearied with travel, the restless youngmen came trotting softly back over the pine needles saying:

"Come out and you will see the white soldiers. " He mounted and followed, and sitting there amid the mountain tangle he saw his dreams come true. The traders and the talking men had not lied about the numbers of theirpeople, for his eye did not come to the rear of the procession whichwound up the valley like a great snake. There were pony-soldiers, walking-soldiers, guns on wagons, herds of the white men's buffalo, and teams without end. The Fire Eater passed his hands across his eyesbefore another gaze reassured him, and having satisfied himself he askeda young man: "Brother, you say there are as many more soldiers up northby the Yellowstone?"

"There are as many more--I saw them with my own eyes, and Blow Cloudover there has seen as many to the east. He could not count them. "

For an hour the spies watched the white columns before the Fire Eaterturned his pony, and followed by his young men disappeared in thetimber. 

Upon his arrival at the big camp the Fire Eater addressed the council:

"I have just come five smokes from the south, and I saw the whitesoldiers coming. I could not count them. They crawl slowly along thevalley and they take their wagons to war. They cannot travel as fast asour squaws, but they will drive the buffalo out of the land. We must goout and fight them while our villages lie here close to the mountains. The wagon-soldiers cannot follow the women's pack-horses into themountains. "

The council approved this with much grunting, and the warriors swarmedfrom the villages--covering the country until the coyotes ran aboutcontinually to get out of their way. No scout of the enemy couldpenetrate to the Indian camps. The Indians burned the grass in front ofthe on-coming herds; they fired into the enemy's tents at night, and asthe pony-soldiers bathed naked in the Yellowstone ran their horses overthem. They would have put out many of the white soldiers' fires if thewagon-guns had not fired bullets which burst among them. 

But it was all to no purpose. 

Slowly the great snakes crawled through the valleys and the red warriorswent riding back to the village to prepare for flight. 

One morning the Fire Eater sat beside his lodge fire playing with hisyoung son--a thing which usually made his eyes gleam. Now he lookedsadly into the little face of the boy, who stood holding his two greatscalp braids in his chubby hands. He knew that in a day or two the campmust move and that the warriors must try to stop the Yellow-Eyes. Takingfrom his scalp a buckskin bag which contained his bat-skin medicine herubbed it slowly over the boy's body, the child laughing as he did so. The sun was barely stronger than the lodge fire when from far away onthe hills beyond the river came a faint sound borne on the morning wind, yet it electrified the camp, and from in front of the Fire Eater'stent a passing man split the air with the wolfish war-yell of theChis-chis-chash. As though he had been a spiral spring released frompressure, the Fire Eater regained his height. The little boy sat brisklydown in the ashes, adding his voice to the confusion, which now reignedin the great camp in a most disproportionate way. The old chief sprangto his doorway in time to see a mounted rider cut by, shrieking, "Thepony-soldiers are coming over the hills!" and disappear among thetepees. 

With intense fingers the nerved warrior readjusted his life treasure, the bat-skin, to his scalp-lock, then opening his war-bags, which noother person ever touched on pain of death, he quickly daubed the warpaint on his face. These two important things having been done, hefilled his ammunition bag with a double handful of cartridges, tied hischief's war-bonnet under his chin, and grasping his rifle, war-ax andwhip, he slid out of the tepee. An excited squaw hastily broughthis best war-pony with its tail tied up, as it always was in thesetroublesome times. The Fire Eater slapped his hand violently on itsquarter, and when he raised it there was the red imprint of the hand ofwar. The frightened animal threw back its head and backed away, but witha bound like a panther the savage was across its back, a thing which intranquil times the old man was not able to do. 

This was the first time in years that the warrior had had a chance towear his war-bonnet in battle. Rapidly adjusting his equipment as he sathis plunging horse, he brought his quirt down with a full arm swing andwas away. By his side many sturdy war-ponies spanked along. At the fordof the river they made the water foam, and the far side muddy, withtheir dripping. They were grotesque demons, streaked and daubed, ontheir many-colored ponies. Rifles clashed, pony-whips cracked, horsessnorted and blew, while the riders emitted the wild yelps which they hadlearned from the wolves. Back from the hills came their scouts sailinglike hawks, scarcely seeming to touch the earth as they flew along. "The pony-soldiers are coming--they are over the hill!" they cried. The crowded warriors circled out and rode more slowly as their chiefsmarshaled them. Many young Red Lodge braves found the Fire Eater'splace, boys who had never seen the old man in war, but who had listenedin many winter lodges where his deeds were "smoked. " As they lookedat him now they felt the insistency of his presence--felt the nervousferocity of the wild man--it made them eager and reckless, and theyknew that such plumes as the Fire Eater wore were carried in times likethese. 

The view of the hill in front was half cut by the right bank of thecoulee up which they were going, when they felt their hearts quicken. One, two, a half dozen, and then the soldiers of the Great Father camein a flood across the ridge, galloping steadily in column, their yellowflags snapping. The Fire Eater turned and gave the long yell and wasanswered by the demon chorus--all whipping along. The whole valleyanswered in kind. The rifles began to pop. A bugle rang on the hill, once, twice, and the pony-soldiers were on their knees, their front ablinding flash, with the blue smoke rolling down upon the Indians orhurried hither and thither by the vagrant winds. Several followers ofthe Fire Eater reeled on their ponies or waved from side to side orclung desperately to their ponies' necks, sliding slowly to the groundas life left them. Relentless whips drove the maddened charge into thepall of smoke, and the fighting men saw everything dimly or not at all. 

The rushing Red Lodges passed through the line of the blue soldiers, stumbling over them and striking downward with their axes. Dozens ofriderless troop horses mingled with them, rushing aimlessly and trippingon dangling ropes and reins. Soon they were going down the other side ofthe hill and out of the smoke_;_ not all, for some had been left behind. Galloping slowly, the red warriors crowded their cartridges into theirguns while over their heads poured the bullets of the soldiers, whoin the smoke could no longer be seen. On all sides swarmed the rushingwarriors mixed inextricably with riderless troop horses mad with terror. As the clouds of Indians circled the hill, the smoke blew slowly awayfrom a portion of it, revealing the kneeling soldiers. Seeing this theFire Eater swerved his pony, and followed by his band charged into andover the line. The whole whirling mass of horsemen followed. The scenewas now a mass of confusion which continued for some time, but thefrantic Fire Eater, as he dashed about, could no longer find anysoldiers. As the tumult quieted and the smoke gave back, they all seemedto be dead. 

[Illustration: 13 The rushing Red Lodges passed through the line of the blue soldiers]

Dismounting, he seized a soldier's hair and drew his knife, but was notable to wind his fingers into it. He desisted and put back his knifemuttering: "A dog--he had not the hair of a warrior--I will not dancesuch a scalp. "

The Fire Eater looked around him and saw the warriors hacking and usingtheir knives, but the enemy had been wiped out. Horses lay kicking andstruggling, or sat on their haunches like dogs with the blood pouringfrom their nostrils. He smiled at the triumph of his race, mounted hispony and with his reeking war-ax moved through the terrible scene. Thehacking and scalping was woman's work--anyone could count a _coup_ here. As for the Fire Eater, his lodge was full of trophies, won in singlecombat. Slowly he made his way down the line of horror until he came tothe end--to the place where the last soldier lay dead, and he passedon to a neighboring hill to view the scene. As he stood looking, hehappened to cast his eyes on the ground and there saw a footprint. Itwas the track of a white man's moccasin with the iron nails showing, andit was going away from the scene of action. Turning his pony he trottedalong beside the trail. Over the little hills it ran through the sagebrush. Looking ahead, the Fire Eater saw a figure in a red blanketmoving rapidly away. Putting his pony to speed he bore down upon theman with his rifle cocked. The figure increased its gait, and the redblanket fell from the shoulders revealing a blue soldier. It was but aninstant before the pony-drew up alongside and the white man stood still, breathing heavily. The Fire Eater saw that his enemy had no gun, thethought of which made him laugh: "A naked warrior; a man without even aknife; does the man with the iron moccasins hope to outrun my war-pony?"

The breathless and terrified white man held out his hand and spokeexcitedly, but the Fire Eater could not understand. With menacingrifle he advanced upon his prey, whereat the white man, suspecting hispurpose, quickly picked up a loose stone and threw it at him but onlyhit the pony. 

The Fire Eater straightway shot the soldier in the thigh and the lattersat down in the dirt. The old chief got off his horse, chuckling whilehe advanced, and sat down a few yards from the stricken man. He talkedto him, saying: "Brother, I have you now. You are about to die. Lookupon the land for the last time. You came into my country to kill me, but it is you who are to be killed. "

The white soldier could not make out the intention of the Indian for thelanguage was mild and the face not particularly satanic. He pleaded forhis life, but it had no effect upon the Fire Eater, who shortly aroseand approached him with his battle-ax. The man saw clearly now whatwas to happen and buried his face in his hands. Too often had thehunter-warrior stood over his fallen quarry to feel pity; he knewno more of this than a bird of prey, and he sank his three-prongedbattle-ax into the soldier's skull and wiped it on his pony's shouldersaying: "Another dog's head; I will leave him for the women and theboys. If he had thrown away his iron moccasins his fire would not beout. I give the meat to the little gray wolves and to the crows whichbring us messages from the spirit-world. " And he resumed his mount. Riding back, he saw the squaws swarming over the battlefield, but thewarriors had gone. Men that he met in the valley told him that theyhad more soldiers surrounded in the bluffs up the valley, but that thewhite-faces could not get away and that the Indians were coming back forfresh ponies. Enough men had been left to hold the besieged. 

Coming to his lodge he got a new pony, and, as he mounted, said to hisyoungest wife: "Wan-ha-ya, give me my little boy: put him up behind meon my pony. I will show him war. "

The squaw held the chubling and put him on the desired place, where hecaught on like a burr. The Fire Eater made his way to the battle ground. There the squaws were stripping and mutilating. Finding a dead soldierwho was naked, he dismounted, setting the boy on the ground. Pullinghis great knife from its buckskin sheath he curled the fat little handaround its haft and led him to the white body. "Strike the enemy, littleson, strike like a warrior, " and the Fire Eater, simulating a blow, directed the small arm downward on the corpse. Comprehending theidea, the infant drew up and drove down, doing his best to obey theinstructions, but his arm was far too weak to make the knife penetrate. The fun of the thing made him scream with pleasure, and the old FireEater chuckled at the idea of his little warrior's first _coup. _ Then herode back to the lodge. 

VIII. The Medicine-Fight of the Chis-chis-chash. 

Hither and yon through the valleys dragged the wagon-soldiers, while theIndians laughed at them from the hills. In the time of the yellow-grassthe tribe had made a successful hunt and the sides of their lodges werepiled high with dry meat. Their kettles would boil through this snow. 

As the tops of the mountains grew white, the camp was moved into adeep gorge of the Big Horn Mountains out of the way of the trailingYellow-Eyes. For a thousand feet the rock walls rose on either side. A narrow brook wound down between their narrow ways. Numerous lateralcanons crossed the main one, giving grass and protection to theirponies. As it suited the individual tastes of the people, the lodgeswere placed in cozy places. When the snows fell the Indians forgot thewagon-soldiers, as they feasted and gossiped by their camp-fires. 

They felt secure in their eerie home, though the camp-cryer frequentlypassed, shouting: "Do not let your ponies wander down the canon and maketrails for the Yellow-Eyes to see. " The women worked the coloredbeads and porcupine quills, chatted with each other, or built discreetromances as fancy dictated. The men gambled, or made smoke-talks by thenight fires. It was the Indian time of social enjoyment. 

Restless young men beat up the country in search of adventure; andonly this day a party had arrived with Absaroke scalps which theywere dancing after the sun had gone. The hollow beat of the tom-tomsmultiplied against the sides of the canon, together with the wildshrieking and yelling of the rejoicers; but the old Fire Eater had grownweary of dancing scalps. He had danced his youthful enthusiasm away, caring more to sit by his lodge fire playing with his little boy orpassing the pipe with men who could remember the days which were betterthan these--with men who could recall to his mind the ardor of his lostyouth. Thus he sat on this wild, whooping night with old Big Hand by hisside to smoke his talk, and with his son asleep across his lap. 

"Where did the war-party leave its trail as it came to the lodges?" heasked. 

Big Hand in reply said: "The man who strikes said they came over themountains--that the snow lay deep. They did not lead up from the plains. They obeyed the chiefs. If it was not so, the camp-soldiers would havebeaten them with sticks. You have not heard the women or the dogs cry. "

"It is good, " continued the Fire Eater. "The wagon-soldiers will notfind a trail on the high hills. The snow would stop their wheels. Theywill dream that the Chis-chis-chash were made into birds and have flownaway. " The Fire Eater chuckled as he loaded his pipe. 

Then Big Hand: "I have heard, brother, that ponies passed the herders atthe mouth of the canon last smoke. It was cold, and they had their robestight over their heads. It is bad. "

"Yes, you talk straight. It is bad for the pony-trails to show belowwhere the land breaks. Some dog of an Absaroke who follows the Grey Foxmay see them. Ponies do not go to live in the hills in the time of snow. The ponies will not travel straight, as the herders drive them back. They will understand. With another sun, I shall call the council. Itwill talk the herders' eyes open. The young men have closed ears inthese days. The cold makes their bones stiff. Brother, when we wereyoung we could see a horse pass in the night. We could smell him. Wecould tell if he had a man on his back. "

Big Hand gave wise consideration to his companion's statement, sayingit was as he spoke. "Brother, those big horses which we took from thepony-soldiers run badly in the herd. They gather in a bunch and runfast. They go over the herders when they see the valley. They will donothing unless you strike them over the head. They are fools like theirwhite riders were. "

So the old men gravely passed the pipe over the little things of life, which to them bore all their interest in the world. The squaw combed herhair and from time to time put fresh sticks on the fire. After a whilethe boy woke up and stretched himself cubbishly across his father'sknees. The ancient one gave him a piece of fresh meat, which he held inboth hands as he gnawed it, smearing his chubby face with grease. Havingdevoured his morsel he blinked sleepily, and the old Indian tucked himaway in the warm recesses of his old buffalo-robe couch, quite naked, as it was their custom to sleep during the winter nights. Long sat thesmokers, turning their tongues over youthful remembrances, until BigHand arose and drawing his robe about him, left the lodge. 

The Fire Eater removed the small buckskin bag which contained his littlebrown bat's skin from his scalp-lock and smoked to it saying: "Keep thebig horses from running down the canyon--keep the eyes of the herdersopen while I sleep--keep the little boy warm--keep the bad spiritsoutside the lodge after the fire can no longer see them. " With thesedevotions concluded, he put the relic of the protection of the Good Godsin his war-bag which hung on his resting-mat over his head. Undressing, he buried himself in his buffalo robes. The fire died down, the tom-tomsand singing in the adjoining lodges quieted gradually, and the campslept. All was still, and it was bitter cold outside, though theChis-chis-chash lay snugly under their hairy rugs, drawing them overtheir heads, shutting out the world of spirits and sound and cold. 

In the ceaseless round of time the night was departing to the westward, when as though it were in a dream the old warrior was conscious ofnoise. His waking sense was stirred. Rapid, frosty crackling of snowground by horse's hoofs came through the crevices of his covering. Allunusual, he sat up with a savage bang, as it were, and bent a stiff earto the darkness. His senses were electric, but the convolutions ofhis brain were dead. A rifle shot, far away but unmistakable. Othersfollowed; they came fast. But not until the clear notes of a bugleblazed their echoing way up the rock walls did he, the Fire Eater, thinkthe truth. He made the lodge shake with the long yell of war. He didthe things of a lifetime now and he did them in a trained, quick way. He shoved his feet into his moccasins and did no more because of theurgency of the case; then he reached for his rifle and belt and stoodin the dark lodge aroused. His sleep was gone but he did not comprehend. Listening for the briefest of moments, he heard amid the yelping of hisown people the dull, resonant roar which he knew was the white man'sanswer. 

Fired into a maddened excitement he snatched up his precious boy, andseizing a robe ran out of the lodge followed by his squaw. Overhead thesky was warming but: the canon was blue dark. Every moment brought theshots and roar nearer. Plunging through the snow with his burden, theFire Eater ran up a rocky draw which made into the main canyon. He hadnot gone many arrow-flights of distance before the rushing storm of thepony-soldiers swept past his deserted lodge. Bullets began to whistleabout him, and glancing back he saw the black form of his squaw staggerand lie slowly down in the snow. He had, by this time, quite recoveredthe calm which comes to the tired-out man when tumult overtakes him. Putting the boy down on a robe behind a rock, and standing naked in thefrosty air he made his magazine gun blaze until empty; then picking theboy up ran on higher up the rocks until he was on the table land of thetop of the canon. Here he resumed his shooting, but the darkness anddistance made it difficult to see. The noise of the fight clattered andclanged up from the depths to him and echoed down from above where thecharge had gone. Other Indians joined him and they poured their bulletsinto the pony-soldiers. The Bad Gods had whispered to the Yellow-Eyes;they had made them see under the snow. The Chis-chis-chash were deadmen, but they would take many with them to the spirit-land. The FireEater felt but a few cartridges in his belt and knew that he must usethem sparingly. The little boy sat crying on the buffalo robe. Holdinghis smoking rifle in one hand, he passed the other over his scalp-lock. The bat-skin medicine was not there. For the first time since the GoodGods had given it to him, back in his youth, did he find himself withoutit. A nameless terror overcame him. He was a truly naked man in thesnow, divested of the protection of body and soul. 

[Illustration: 14 He made his magazine gun blaze until empty]

He meditated long before he reached down and gathered up his offspring. Carefully wrapping up the wailing infant, he handed it to a squaw whostood near shivering and moaning wildly. "Stay here and hold my boy. Iam going back. "

Shoving cartridges into his magazine, he made his way down, the lightsnow flying before him. Rounding the rocks he could see down into themain canon; see the pony-soldiers and their Indian allies tearing downand burning the lodges. The yellow glare of many fires burned brightlyin contrast with the cold blue of the snow. He scanned narrowly theplace where his own lodge had been and saw it fall before many hands tobe taken to their fires. With raised shoulders and staring eyes he stoodaghast. He drunk in the desecration in all its awful significance. Thebat's skin--the hand of the Good Gods--was removed from him; his shadowwas as naked as his back. 

In the snow a hundred yards below him lay his young squaw, the mother ofhis boy, and she had not moved since she lay down. 

As the pony-soldiers finally saw the stark figure of the Indian amongthe rocks they sent a shower of bullets around him. He had no medicine;the Bad Gods would direct the bullets to his breast. He turned and ranfrantically away. 

The last green-grass had seen the beplumed chief with reddened battle-axleading a hundred swift warriors over the dying pony-soldiers, but nowthe cold, blue snow looked on a naked man running before bullets, withhis medicine somewhere in the black smoke which began to hang like apall over the happy winter camp of the bravest Indians. The ebb and flowof time had fattened and thinned the circumstances of the Fire Eater'slife many times, but it had never taken his all before. It had left himnothing but his boy and a nearly empty gun. It had placed him betweenthe fire of the soldiers' rifles and the cruel mountain winds whichwould pinch his heart out. 

With his boy at his breast he flew along the rim-rock like a crow, hunting for shelter from bullets and wind. He longed to expend hisremaining cartridges where each would put out a white man's fire. Meanwhile, recovering from their surprise, the Indians had gatheredthickly on the heights and fought stiffly back. Being unable to followthem, the pony-soldiers drew back, but as they retreated they left thevillage blazing, which the Chis-chis-chash could not prevent. Theirrifles had only handed them over to the hungry winter. 

The Fire Eater sat muffled on a ledge, firing from time to time, andanxiously scanning his shots. The cold made him shake and he could nothold his rifle true. His old, thin blood crept slowly through his veins, and the child cried piteously. His fires were burning low; even thestimulus of hate no longer stirred him as he looked down on thewhite men who had burned his all and shot his wife and were even thenspattering his den in the rocks with lead. He gave up, overpowered bythe situation. With infinite difficulty he gathered himself erect onhis stiffened joints and took again his burden in his trembling arms. Standing thus on the wind-swept height, with the bullets spotting therocks around him, he extended his right hand and besought the black, eddying smoke to give him back his bat-skin; he begged the spirits ofthe air to bring it to him. He shouted his harsh pathos at a wild andlonely wind, but there was no response. 

Then off through the withering cold and powdery snow moved the blackfigure of despair tottering slowly away from the sound of rifles whichgrew fainter at each step. He chattered and mumbled, half to himself, half to the unseen influences of nature, while the child moaned weaklyunder his clutched robe. When he could but barely hear the noises of thefight, he made his way down into the canon where he shortly came upona group of his tribesmen who had killed a pony and were roasting piecesover a log fire. They were mostly women and children, or old, old menlike himself. More to note than their drawn and leathery faces was thespeechless terror brooding over all. Their minds had not digestedtheir sudden fate. If the young warriors broke before the guns of thepony-soldiers, worse yet might overtake them, though the windswept tablelands dismayed them equally with the bullets. Munching their horse-meat, clutching their meager garments, they elbowed about the fires sayinglittle. In their homeless helplessness their souls deadened. They couldnot divine the immediate future. Unlike the young warriors whose firesflashed brighter as the talons of Death reached most fiercely for them, they shuddered and crouched. 

[Illustration: 15 He shouted his harsh pathos at a wild and lonely wind]

In the light of day they could see how completely the ravishing fire haddone its work. Warriors came limping back from the battle, their robesdyed with a costly vermilion. They sat about doing up their wounds infilthy rags, or sang their death-songs amid the melancholy wailing ofthe squaws. 

Having warmed himself and quieted the boy, the Fire Eater stalked downthe canon, past the smoking poles, stopping here and there to pick upfragments of skins which he used to swaddle the boy. Returning warriorssaid the soldiers were going away, while they themselves were comingback to get warm. Hearing this, the old man stalked down the creektoward the place where his lodge had been. He found nothing but asmouldering heap of charred robes and burnt dried meat. With a piece oflodge pole he poked away the ashes, searching for his precious medicineand never ceasing to implore the Good Gods to restore it to him. Atlast, dropping the pole, he walked up the side canon to the place wherehis wife had fallen. He found her lying there. Drawing aside the robe henoticed a greenish pallor and fled from Death. 

Finding the ponies tethered together by their necks, he caught them, and improvising packs out of old robes and rawhide filled them withhalf-burnt dried meat. With these he returned to the fires, where heconstructed a rude shelter for the coming night. The boy moaned andcried through the shivering darkness as the old Fire Eater rocked him inhis arms to a gibberish of despairing prayer. 

Late in the night, the scouts came in saying that the walking-soldierswere coming, whereat the Indians gathered their ponies and fled over thesnow. The young men stayed behind and from the high cliffs fought backthe soldiers. Many weak persons in the retreating band sat down andpassed under the spell of the icy wind. The Fire Eater pressed alongcarrying his rifle and boy, driving his ponies in a herd with others. It was too cold for him to dare to ride a horse. The crying boy shiveredunder the robe. The burden-bearer mumbled the troubled thoughts of hismind: "My mystery from the Good Gods is gone; they have taken it; theygave it to the fire. I am afraid. The bad spirits of the wind will getunder my robe. They will enter the body of my boy. Oh! little brown bat, come sit on my hand! Do not let them take the boy!"

Hour after hour he plodded along in the snow. His body was warmed by hisexertions and the boy felt cold against his flesh. He noted this, andwith the passing moments the little frame grew more rigid and more colduntil it was as a stone image in the Fire Eater's arms. Stopping withhis back to the wind, he undid the robe and fingered his burden. He knewthat the shadow had gone;--knew that the bad spirits had taken it away. "Oh! Bad Gods, oh! Evil Spirits of the night, come take my shadow. Youhave stolen my boy; you have put out my lodge fire; put out the fireof my body! Take vengeance on me! I am deserted by the Good Gods! I amready to go! I am waiting!"

Thus stood in the bleak night this victim of his lost medicine; thefierce and cruel mysteries of the wind tugged at his robe and flappedhis long hair about his head. Indians coming by pushed and pulled himalong. Two young men made it a duty to aid the despairing chief. Theydragged him until they reached a canyon where fires had been lighted, around which were gathered the fugitives. The people who had led him hadsupposed that his mind was wandering under suffering or wounds. As hesank by the side of the blaze he dropped the robe and laid the stiffenedbody of his frozen boy across his knees. The others peered for a timewith frightened glances at the dead body, and then with cries of "Dead!dead!" ran away, going deeper down the canon. The Fire Eater sat alone, waiting for the evil spirits which lurked out among the pine treesto come and take him. He wanted to go to the spirit-land where theCheyennes of his home and youth were at peace in warm valleys, talkingand eating. 

THE END