By ELMER R. GREGOR

JIM MASON, BACKWOODSMAN
JIM MASON, SCOUT

Western Indian Series

WHITE OTTER
THE WAR TRAIL
THREE SIOUX SCOUTS

Eastern Indian Series

SPOTTED DEER
RUNNING FOX
THE WHITE WOLF

NOW WE MUST WATCH OUT!

[Page 186]

THE WAR TRAIL

BY

ELMER RUSSELL GREGOR

AUTHOR OF "THE WHITE WOLF,"
"RUNNING FOX," "WHITE OTTER," ETC.

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK :: 1924 :: LONDON

COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS

THE WAR TRAIL

CHAPTER I

A COURIER FROM THE WEST

The sun was setting behind the western rim of the plain, as White Otter, a famous young war-chief of the Ogalala Sioux, drew near the low ridge of foothills which he had been approaching since daylight. He was bound on a hunting expedition for deer, having promised to kill a fat young buck for his grandfather, old Wolf Robe, the aged Sioux chief.

White Otter approached the timber with his usual caution. He knew that the forest often concealed foes as well as game, and he determined to take no risks. He rode slowly toward the cover, therefore, watching for the slightest warning of danger. He was within easy arrow range of the woods when his pony suddenly stopped and snorted nervously. White Otter instantly became alert. Drawing his bow, he slid to the ground, and sheltered himself behind his pony. Then for some time pony and rider watched the forest.

A loud crackling of undergrowth, and a number of soft, bounding footfalls told him the cause of his alarm. He had startled a deer from its feeding ground at the edge of the plain. Convinced that the place was free of foes, he mounted his pony, and rode to the edge of the timber.

This range of heavily timbered foothills was a favorite hunting ground of the Ogalalas, and White Otter had visited the locality many times. He was entirely familiar with the usual haunts of game, and knew the location of every spring and salt lick. Once in the timber, therefore, the young Sioux rode slowly along a well-worn game trail which brought him to a small grassy park in the dip of the hills. A little stream trickled through one end of it, and made it an ideal feeding ground for deer and elk. As it was also an attractive and sheltered camp site, and offered an abundance of feed for his pony, White Otter decided to remain there for the night.

The twilight shadows were already gathering as the Sioux tied his pony in the woods and seated himself at the edge of the little park to watch and listen. Although the day was about gone he hoped that he might secure his game before darkness finally settled down. It was not long before he was roused by a rustling of wings above his head. Looking up, he saw a pair of plump spruce grouse on a limb directly over him. As the birds stretched their necks and cocked their heads to look at him, he drove an arrow through the body of the cock grouse. The bird fluttered helplessly to the ground, and White Otter immediately broke its neck. The remaining grouse still sat peering down at him. He made no attempt to kill it. It was a law of his people to kill only what they required that there might always be sufficient game to replenish the supply.

"Wakantunka, the Great Mystery, has sent me something to eat," White Otter said, reverently. "It is good."

As it was getting quite dark, and as there seemed little probability of seeing game, the Sioux decided to abandon his vigil until daylight. He brought his pony from the timber and tied it in the center of the park to graze. Then he selected his camp site and made a tiny fire of dry sticks. As a precaution against being seen by some prowling foe, he inclosed it with a barricade of rocks to hide its feeble glow. He plucked the grouse and spitted it on a forked stick before the fire. Then he drew his elk skin robe about his shoulders and seated himself to enjoy his evening meal.

After he had eaten the grouse White Otter allowed the fire to die out. Then for a long time he sat in the darkness, listening to the night sounds. The wind whispered softly in the tree tops. The shrill yelping of the coyotes came from the open plain. Then the plaintive cry of the little red owl sounded within bowshot. White Otter listened anxiously. He knew that the call often was used as a signal, and he determined to be on his guard. However, he soon convinced himself that it was genuine, and dismissed it from his mind. Shortly afterward he brought his pony from the park and tied it near him. Then he wrapped himself in his robe and lay down to sleep.

White Otter awakened at daylight and crept stealthily to the edge of the park. As he saw no game, he sat down to watch. He felt quite sure that either deer or elk would soon come there for food and water. In fact he had waited only a short time when he heard something approaching through the undergrowth. Fitting an arrow to his bow, White Otter looked anxiously in the direction of the sound. In a few minutes he saw an old bull elk standing in the shadows at the edge of the woods. It was thin and emaciated, and White Otter knew that its flesh would be tough and unpalatable. It was well within bowshot, but he had no thought of killing it. He had promised his aged grandfather a fat young buck, and he had no intention of disappointing him. As the old bull walked slowly into the open, White Otter grunted, and the elk instantly stopped and looked toward him. Then as the Sioux rose to his feet and showed himself the aged bull turned awkwardly and trotted stiffly into the cover.

"Go, old man," laughed White Otter. "You have lived a long time. I will let you live on. I am——"

He stopped abruptly, for at that moment he heard a loud snort, and a great crackling of brush, as the buck for which he had been waiting raced safely away through the woods. The young hunter flushed with anger.

"I am like a noisy old woman," he grumbled, savagely.

After he had gone to examine the trail of the buck, he again seated himself at the edge of the woods to watch for game. A long time passed before he heard anything. Then he was surprised to hear something coming directly toward him through the woods. It made a great noise, and sounded like a deer or an elk in wild flight. White Otter sprang to his feet and held his arrow in readiness.

In a few moments a splendid blacktail buck leaped into the open. White Otter was astonished to see a huge gray lynx clinging to the buck. As it reached the park, the deer was dragged to its haunches. Then, apparently unmindful of the interested young hunter, the lynx relaxed its hold and sprang at the throat of its victim. The cruel fangs sank deep into the flesh, and although the buck struggled desperately it was soon overcome.

Then White Otter drove his arrow through the lynx. It fell dead with the arrow through its heart. A second arrow ended the agony of the blacktail buck. Elated at his luck the Sioux ran forward to examine his game. He lifted the head of the lynx and gazed intently into the cruel face. Then he addressed the dead animal and made excuses for having killed it, so that its spirit would not depart in anger and seek to avenge itself upon him at some future time.

"Ho, old man, you were very fierce," White Otter said, softly. "You were a good hunter. If I had not come here you would have had something good to eat. Well, I saw you. I came here to get meat for my grandfather, the great chief Wolf Robe. When I saw that buck I decided to take it. That is why I killed you. But you must not feel bad about it. You have done many bad things to my people. Yes, that is why I felt like killing you. You have killed many young ponies. You have driven away many deer. You have made it hard for our hunters to find meat. Now you know why I killed you. But you must not feel bad about it. Now I am going to do something good for you. I am going to give you some meat to take with you on the Long Trail. Then I am going to tell my people about you. I will speak good words about you. Now you must feel good about this thing."

Having complied with the ancient custom of his people, White Otter opened the carcass of the deer and placed the entrails beside the lynx. Then he packed the buck upon his pony with a long lariat of twisted rawhide and rode from the park.

When he reached the edge of the timber, White Otter stopped to search the plain. A prairie wolf trotted slowly from sight over a rise of ground. It was the only sign of life on the vast sage-grown waste. Assured that there was nothing to fear, White Otter set out upon his journey.

White Otter had covered two thirds of the distance to the Sioux camp when his pony suddenly turned its nose toward the wind and whinnied shrilly. White Otter looked about him with considerable alarm. He felt certain that other horses were somewhere in the vicinity. The possibility roused his suspicions. He dismounted and grasped his pony by the nose to keep it silent. It was snorting and nervously watching a low grassy knoll several arrow flights away.

"There are horses behind that hill," White Otter told himself.

Two possibilities suggested themselves. Perhaps there was a small bunch of stray ponies grazing on the opposite side of the hill. Perhaps his foes had discovered him and were lying in ambush behind the knoll. The thought made him uneasy, as the day was far spent, and he was still a considerable distance from his people. He had great confidence in the ability of his pony, however, which was one of the best in the entire Sioux tribe. He believed that in an open chase he would have little difficulty in keeping well beyond range of any pursuers who might set out upon his trail.

"I will find out about this thing," he declared.

He planned to ride about the knoll at a safe distance in the hope of discovering what lay hidden on the other side. As he was about to mount his pony, however, he saw a warrior rise to his feet, and stand boldly outlined on the top of the hill. It was an entirely unexpected maneuver, and White Otter instantly became suspicious. He feared that it was a trick to lead him into a trap. He looked anxiously about the plain to make sure that other crafty foes were not circling around behind him to cut off his retreat. He saw no one except the mysterious stranger on the top of the hill. He seemed to be watching White Otter as intently as the latter was watching him. For some time neither moved.

White Otter finally decided that, as the unknown scout was too far away to be identified, it would be foolish to waste more time watching him. He determined to continue on his way toward the Sioux camp. If he learned that he was being followed he planned to turn aside on a false trail until it grew dark. Then he would circle back toward the Ogalala village.

As White Otter mounted his pony and started away, however, the warrior on the knoll suddenly showed signs of life. The Sioux had ridden less than an arrow flight when the sentinel disappeared over the brow of the hill. White Otter felt quite certain that his pursuit had begun. He watched anxiously over his shoulder for the first glimpse of his foes. The Crows had lately been seen in that vicinity, and he wondered if a company of those hated enemies were about to come racing along his trail. He did not force his pony, however, as he was eager to learn the identity of his pursuers before he raced away for the Sioux camp.

White Otter did not have long to wait. In a few moments a solitary horseman swept over a rise of the plain and galloped toward him. The Sioux felt sure that it was the warrior who had been watching him. As the stranger appeared to be alone, and eager to fight, White Otter prepared for battle. Before venturing within arrow range, however, the rider suddenly wheeled his pony, and raced around White Otter at great speed. The Sioux immediately stopped and prepared to defend himself. Then he suddenly discovered that the horseman was a friend.

"Ho, Dacotah! Ho, my brother!" shouted the rider.

"Yes, yes, now I see who you are," cried White Otter, as he lowered his bow.

A moment later they dismounted beside each other. White Otter recognized the rider as a Minneconjoux warrior named Lean Wolf, an old friend with whom he had shared several perilous adventures.

"I have brought you some words from your brother, Sun Bird," said Lean Wolf.

"It is good," White Otter replied, eagerly, as his eyes lighted with pleasure.

"It is bad," Lean Wolf said, soberly.

"Has something bad happened to my brother Sun Bird?" the young Ogalala inquired anxiously.

"No, I have not come to tell you that," Lean Wolf assured him. "I have come to tell you that our enemies, the Blackfeet, came to our camp. They crawled around the village in the dark like dogs. We did not hear them. They ran off many ponies. Sun Bird is going to bring back those ponies. He is the leader of a war party. He is going to fight the boastful Blackfeet. He wants his brother White Otter to go with him."

Lean Wolf finished speaking, and looked inquiringly at the young Ogalala war chief. For some moments the latter remained silent. He knew that a warrior must not speak hastily, or pledge himself too eagerly. Although his heart beat wildly at the thought of joining his friend in a war expedition against the Blackfeet, he carefully concealed his emotion lest he might lose respect in the eyes of the stern Minneconjoux scout. Then, after the proper interval, White Otter replied:

"Lean Wolf, tell my brother Sun Bird that I will go with him to fight the Blackfeet," he said, quietly.

"It is good," replied Lean Wolf.

"See, pretty soon it will be dark," said White Otter. "You must go with me to my people."

"No, I will go back," Lean Wolf told him. "I was going to your village to find you. Then I saw you here. It is good. I have brought you the words of your brother Sun Bird. It is what I set out to do. I have done it. Now I will turn back. Sun Bird is waiting."

"Go, my brother," replied White Otter. "Tell Sun Bird that I will come to meet him at the end of three suns. If I do not come then he must wait one sun more. Then if I do not come he will know that something bad has happened to me. Now I am going away."

They parted without further ceremony, riding away into the twilight in opposite directions. Once they had separated neither looked back. After he had ridden a short distance, however, White Otter raised his head and uttered the wild, piercing war cry of the Dacotahs. It echoed defiantly across the plain, and the young war chief thrilled at the sound. Then, after a short silence, it was answered from the west. White Otter laughed gleefully as he raced his pony toward the Sioux camp.

CHAPTER II

OFF ON THE WAR TRAIL

When White Otter reached the Sioux camp he rode directly to the lodge of old Wolf Robe, the famous Ogalala war chief.

"Ho, grandfather, see, I have brought you some meat," he cried gayly.

"Ho, I see that you have killed a fat young buck," said Wolf Robe, as his eyes lighted with pleasure. "Come, woman, cut some meat."

At his command, old Singing Wind, the grandmother of White Otter, came from the lodge. White Otter dragged the buck from his pony. Then, as Singing Wind called some of the younger women to help her, White Otter asked if he might talk with Wolf Robe.

"Yes, my son, come into the lodge and sit down with me," said Wolf Robe.

The old chief listened attentively while White Otter described his unusual adventure with the lynx. Then he told of his meeting with Lean Wolf, the Minneconjoux scout, and the message which the latter had brought from Sun Bird. Wolf Robe looked sharply at his grandson.

"I am going with Sun Bird to fight the Blackfeet," declared White Otter.

Wolf Robe nodded understandingly, but made no reply. For a long time he gazed thoughtfully at his battle-scarred war shield which hung on a tripod of poles at the rear of the lodge. It appeared as if the aged war leader was recalling his own glorious achievements on the war trail in the days of his youth. White Otter waited patiently for him to speak.

"It is good," Wolf Robe said, finally. "The voice of a friend travels far. The ears of a Dacotah are open for the words of a friend. Sun Bird has called you. He is your friend. You must go."

Having given this advice, Wolf Robe again subsided into silent meditation. As White Otter rose to leave, however, his grandfather motioned for him to be seated.

"Wait, my son, I have some words for you," he said.

"It is good," replied White Otter.

"You say that you are going to fight the Blackfeet," said Wolf Robe. "Those people are strong. They are braver than the boastful Pawnees. I have fought with them many times. When I was a young man I was taken to their village. They kept me there many moons. Those were bad days. Then I got away. After that I fought many battles against those people. Once I went to their camp, and took away some ponies. It was a hard thing to do. Yes, my son, the Blackfeet are great warriors. Well, I have told you about them. Now you can tell our brothers, the Minneconjoux, about it. I believe you will have a big fight to get back those ponies. My son, you are a Dacotah. It is enough. I have spoken. Go!"

The following day, at sunrise, White Otter set out to join the Minneconjoux war party. He was dressed and decorated for the war trail. Naked above the waist, he had daubed and streaked his face, chest and arms with yellow clay. A great war bonnet of eagle plumes proclaimed his rank as a famous Ogalala war chief. His dress consisted of buckskin leggings, buffalo-hide moccasins, a buckskin breechcloth, and a silky cow buffalo robe for protection against wind and storm. He carried a wolfskin case containing his bow and arrows, a flint knife in a buckskin sheath, his buffalo-hide war shield, and a weasel-skin pouch containing his fire sticks and some dried meat. Mounted upon his best war pony, the dashing young warrior made a striking appearance as he rode proudly from the great Sioux camp.

Many friends shouted good wishes from the edge of the village. White Otter turned his pony, and answered them with the thrilling war-cry of the Dacotahs. Then he raced away toward the west.

Once beyond range of the camp, however, White Otter drew his pony to a walk, and carefully scanned the plain. He had little fear of encountering foes so near the Ogalala village, but he determined to take every precaution. A small band of antelope were feeding far away toward the south, and as they seemed to be the only living creatures on the vast expanse of plain White Otter urged his pony into a canter and proceeded on his way.

It was a glorious day in early summer. The sky was blue and cloudless. The prairie was dotted with flowers. Birds sang gayly from the thickets. The air was perfumed with the fragrance of blossoms, the sweet aroma of growing grass, and the faint, spicy scent of distant sage.

White Otter rode on his way in high spirits. He was carefree, and happy, and eager for adventure. The fact that he was about to expose himself to the perils of the war trail caused him slight concern. He had implicit confidence in the ability and courage of his tribesmen, the fearless Minneconjoux, and he had little doubt that their expedition against the powerful Blackfeet would be entirely successful. The thought of being injured or killed in the adventure never entered his mind. If it had he would have wasted little time upon it, as he had long since learned to scoff at danger, and to accept injury and death as inevitable possibilities in the life of every warrior.

Toward the end of the day White Otter came in sight of a familiar little grove of aspens which marked a former camp site. He had encountered a company of Ute warriors at that spot the previous year, and he was somewhat suspicious of it. It offered a splendid hiding place to foes, and the wily young Sioux determined to make sure that the place was unoccupied before he ventured within arrow range. He stopped at a safe distance out on the plain, and watched the grove with considerable anxiety. Then, as he saw nothing to arouse his suspicions, he rode slowly about the camp site, looking for fresh pony tracks. He soon discovered them. They led away from the grove. White Otter dismounted, and studied them with great care. He saw that it was the trail of a single pony, and the tracks were several days old. Having learned that much, he walked slowly ahead of his horse, watching carefully to discover where the trail had entered the grove.

"Perhaps it was Lean Wolf," he told himself.

He soon learned otherwise, as the trail approached the grove from the south. White Otter followed the tracks a short distance out on the plain, and found evidence which convinced him that the pony had carried a rider. As there seemed little to be gained by following the trail farther in that direction, he turned and followed it to the grove.

The camp site was unoccupied, and as there was a spring, and plenty of grass for his horse, White Otter decided to stop there for the night. He picketed his pony, and then began to examine the place for signs. The ashes from a small fire, and some charred bones scattered near by, told him that some one had spent the night at that spot several days before. He worked diligently to find a clew to the identity of the traveler, but found nothing which would tell him what he wished to know. The little mound of ashes, the remnants of a meal, and the pony tracks were his only clews.

The fact that the unknown horseman had come from the south aroused White Otter's interest. Both the Pawnees and the Utes lived to the southward. As he had already encountered a war party of the latter at the grove he wondered if it was a favorite stopping place for those mysterious foes. However, as the signs were at least two days old, the possibility caused him little concern.

Having finished his reconnaissance, White Otter seated himself at the edge of the grove to watch the plain. The sun had already set, and the purple evening shadows were creeping out of the east. The prairie appeared lifeless. The Sioux was at a loss to account for the scarcity of game. He feared that foes of some sort had driven it from the locality. The thought suggested the possibility that the lone rider was a scout, loitering behind a hunting party to watch for enemies.

At dark White Otter returned to his pony. He feared to make a fire, lest the gleam might betray him to his foes. He sat beside the little spring, and ate several cakes of pemmican, composed of dried meat and berries, which he had brought for just such an emergency.

Before he ventured to sleep, White Otter returned to the edge of the plain, and spent a long time listening for a warning of approaching enemies. The howling of some distant prairie wolves, the gentle rustling of the aspens, and an occasional grunt from his pony were the only sounds. He continued to listen, however, until the night was half gone. Then he returned to the camp site, and lay down to sleep.

Dawn was just breaking when White Otter was suddenly awakened by the snorting of his pony. Seizing his bow, he moved cautiously to the edge of the grove. A buck antelope was standing within easy bowshot. It had scented the pony, and stopped to investigate. Unable to resist the temptation, White Otter drove his arrow through its heart. It was a yearling in prime condition, and he cut a choice steak from the carcass. Then, as the light strengthened, and he saw no evidence of foes, he made a tiny fire and broiled the antelope meat. He ate heartily, and gave thanks to Wakantunka, the Great Mystery, for sending him food.

Shortly after sunrise White Otter resumed his journey toward the Minneconjoux camp. As the pony tracks led in that direction he followed them with keen interest. If the lone horseman really were a hostile scout, White Otter knew that to follow him would be the surest and safest way of locating any enemies who might be in the vicinity. He kept a sharp watch, therefore, and approached the knolls and ridges with great caution.

It was midday before he saw anything to make him suspicious. Then he discovered a dense cloud of dust rising behind a slight elevation of the plain. He immediately stopped to watch it. It suggested two possibilities—a herd of frightened buffaloes or a company of horsemen. White Otter longed to peep over the top of the ridge, but he realized that it would be folly to take the risk until he knew what was before him. He knew that hostile scouts might be watching from that spot, and the possibility made him cautious.

"Perhaps some one is hunting buffaloes," he said.

Realizing that he might have been seen, White Otter looked for a place of concealment. The plain was open and bare of shelter, however, and there was no chance to hide. He determined to remain where he was, hoping that something might appear along the crest of the ridge.

It was soon evident that whatever was raising the dust was moving rapidly toward the north. White Otter felt quite certain that it was a herd of buffaloes in wild flight. Perhaps they were pursued by wolves, which were always loitering about the herds at that season to prey upon the young calves. It was just as probable, however, that a hunting party of foes had invaded the great Sioux hunting grounds.

"Well, I will wait here and see what comes of it," declared White Otter.

The dust cloud finally faded out some distance farther toward the north. White Otter was perplexed. He was undecided as to what he should do. The ridge extended like a barrier directly across his path, and it would be necessary to cross it to continue his journey. Still, he realized the peril of venturing within bow range.

White Otter waited a long time, and then finally turned his pony toward the south, and rode along parallel with the ridge. Having seen nothing which would lead him to suspect enemies, he planned to cross the ridge some distance to the southward. When he believed that he had gone a sufficient distance, he turned and approached the ridge. As he finally came within arrow range he stopped and searched the top of the slope for signs of foes. Although he failed to discover them, he realized that they might be lying just below the top of the ridge, in which event it would be impossible to see them. He rode forward with great caution, therefore, and was prepared to flee at the first hint of danger.

White Otter had actually begun to climb the slope when he was startled by a chorus of whoops and yells, and turning toward the left he saw a company of horsemen racing toward him. He lashed his pony up the slope and crossed the ridge. Then he rode furiously toward the west.

The maneuver completely fooled the Pawnees who had expected him to turn down the ridge and flee in the opposite direction. Their confusion gave White Otter a chance to get beyond arrow range before they dashed over the ridge in pursuit of him. He looked over his shoulder and counted eight riders whom he instantly recognized as Pawnees. His eyes flashed dangerously as he thought of those hated foes.

White Otter was holding his lead over his pursuers when he suddenly saw a solitary rider gallop from a little grove of trees, and race diagonally across the plain in an effort to intercept him. The Pawnee was mounted on a particularly fast little buckskin, and White Otter realized that unless he swerved from his course he would soon come within easy bow range of him. The Sioux however, refused to give way.

"I will kill that man," White Otter declared, grimly.

The other Pawnees had failed to come within bowshot, and although they were yelling fiercely, and forcing their ponies to the limit, White Otter gave little attention to them. His eyes were fixed on the daring rider who was racing recklessly across the plain in an attempt to get in front of him. The Pawnee seemed equally intent upon watching White Otter. The ponies appeared well matched, and the race was a thrilling one.

When they finally came within bow range, White Otter was sufficiently in the lead to foil the plan of the Pawnee. The latter, however, immediately began to shoot his arrows, and one of them penetrated deep behind the shoulder of the Sioux pony. Mortally wounded, the unfortunate animal made one great bound and then crashed to its knees, and White Otter was thrown heavily over its head.

Jarred and stunned, the Sioux staggered to his feet to find the Pawnee almost upon him. Quick to realize his peril, White Otter dropped behind his dying pony as the Pawnee shot his arrow. The next moment he drove his own arrow through the body of his foe, as the latter rode at him with his war club raised for the fatal stroke. As the Pawnee toppled to the plain, White Otter sprang forward and seized the bewildered pony. An instant later he was racing away through a volley of Pawnee arrows.

Enraged at the fate of their comrade, the Pawnees were risking their necks to overtake the Sioux. White Otter feared that at any moment either he or the captured pony would be pierced by their arrows. In their frenzy, however, they shot wildly, and their arrows flew wide of the mark. White Otter lashed the Pawnee pony without mercy in an effort to place himself beyond arrow range. He was astonished at the speed and stamina of the buckskin, and he soon realized that it was the equal of the horse he had lost. The discovery gave him confidence. A glance backward told him that two of his pursuers were steadily losing ground, and he was holding his lead against the others. He was still within arrow range, however, and he crouched low upon the buckskin, and urged it to still greater efforts. It responded nobly, and the fierce yells from his enemies convinced him that they were falling farther behind. The Pawnee pony was speeding over the plain with great bounds, and White Otter was forced to admit that his favorite war pony would have been sorely tried to maintain the pace.

Having begun to increase his lead, White Otter took hope. The little buckskin had won his confidence, and he had little fear of being overtaken. The day was far spent, and he believed that he would have little difficulty in keeping well ahead of his pursuers until darkness came to his aid. Then he knew that it would be a simple task to shake them from his trail. Feeling sure of escape, therefore, he sat erect and shook his bow defiantly at the helpless Pawnees. They replied with wild yells of rage, and White Otter laughed mockingly.

The Pawnees continued the chase until darkness finally blotted them from sight. Then White Otter turned sharply from his course, and rode directly toward the north. Feeling confident that the maneuver would baffle his foes, he slackened the pace of his pony to an easy canter. Thus he rode until the night was half gone, and then he stopped and dismounted from the tired little buckskin.

Fearing that the Pawnees might continue to search for him, White Otter made no attempt to sleep. He sat close beside his pony, watching and listening for a warning of his foes. He hoped that if they failed to find him before daylight they would abandon the pursuit rather than venture farther into the Minneconjoux hunting grounds.

Shortly before daylight White Otter mounted his pony and rode away toward the west. Having heard nothing from the Pawnees he felt quite certain that he had thrown them from his trail. His confidence was rudely shaken, however, when he suddenly heard the sharp, husky bark of the little gray fox a short distance at his left. A few moments afterward a horse whinnied, and before he could interfere the little buckskin replied.

"That is bad," White Otter murmured, uneasily.

He was fearful and perplexed. The signal was a favorite one among the Sioux, and still under the circumstances he mistrusted it. He waited, therefore, listening anxiously to locate whoever confronted him. In a few moments the call was repeated at his right. He knew that either friends or foes were on both sides of him. At length he answered the challenge. A voice sounded from the darkness.

"Ho, Dacotah."

"Ho, my brother Sun Bird," White Otter replied, joyfully, as he recognized the voice of his friend.

Then Sun Bird and his brother Little Raven rode forward to meet him. The three young warriors had shared many perilous adventures, and they greeted one another with boyish enthusiasm. Then Sun Bird repeated the call of the little gray fox three times in quick succession, and fifteen grim Minneconjoux warriors came to join them.

"Lean Wolf told us about this thing," Sun Bird explained. "Come, Lean Wolf, here is White Otter, tell him about it."

"Ho, my brother," said Lean Wolf, as he rode up beside White Otter.

"Ho, my brother Lean Wolf," White Otter replied, heartily.

"When I was riding back to my people I saw some Pawnee hunters," explained Lean Wolf. "They saw me, but I was a long ways off. They did not come after me. I told my people about it. Sun Bird said, 'It is bad. Those Pawnees may kill White Otter. Perhaps we can help him. Come, my friends, who will go with me to find White Otter?' That is how we came here."

"It is good," said White Otter. "The brave Minneconjoux are my brothers. I believe when the Pawnees heard your ponies they ran away. But see, my friends, I am riding one of their ponies. It is very fast. I will tell you how I come to have it."

The Minneconjoux listened with great interest while White Otter told of his adventure with the Pawnees. When he finished speaking there were many exclamations of approval from the stern warriors who had gathered about him.

"White Otter, you have done a good thing," declared Sun Bird. "See, it is getting light. Come, we will go and tell our people how you fooled the boastful Pawnees."

They turned their ponies toward the west, and rode away singing boastfully of White Otter's triumph over the Pawnees.

CHAPTER III

THE COUNCIL FIRE

Late the second day the Sioux came in sight of the great Minneconjoux camp. It was situated beside a wide stream that flowed down from great snowy peaks farther to the westward. The little company of riders stopped on the summit of a grassy knoll and looked with pride on the great circle of lodges which dotted the plain. Their pride was somewhat humbled, however, by the absence of the vast herd of ponies which usually were to be seen grazing near the village. The few horses that had escaped the Blackfeet raid were carefully guarded within the camp.

The riders had already been discovered and recognized by watchers at the edge of the village, and a company of horsemen was soon racing across the plain to meet them.

"See! my people are coming to take you to their village," Sun Bird told White Otter.

As the Minneconjoux dashed up to them White Otter recognized several old friends in the company who had come out to welcome him. There was Feather Dog, a famous scout, with whom he had shared a number of thrilling adventures; and Sitting Eagle, another great scout, was in the party. Then there was Kicking Bull, a renowned hunter, whom White Otter had saved from death in a buffalo stampede. All those men greeted the famous young Ogalala chief with great respect, and his heart filled with pride as he realized the esteem in which he was held by those renowned warriors.

"You have come to help us fight the Blackfeet," said Feather Dog. "It is good. We will do some big things."

"I was going with my brother Sun Bird to find you, but the great chief Curly Horse asked me to stay behind," explained Kicking Bull. "Some of our young men saw smoke over near the mountains, and we were afraid that the Blackfeet were coming back. That is why I held back."

"It is good," declared White Otter.

As the horsemen approached the camp the Minneconjoux began to shout the name of White Otter and to sing songs of welcome. The daring exploits of the young Ogalala war chief had made him famous throughout the great Dacotah nation, and the Minneconjoux were prepared to honor him with the courtesies due a great chief. When he reached the edge of the village he was met by a delegation of noted warriors who led him through the camp, so that all the people might have a chance to welcome him.

"See, here is White Otter!" cried the Minneconjoux. "It is White Otter, the great chief of the Ogalalas. It is White Otter, the great war leader. See, White Otter, our lodges are open. We have cooked much meat. You must come to our lodges, and eat with us."

Men, women and children followed behind his pony, as his escort led him toward the lodge of the famous chief, Curly Horse. The Minneconjoux war chief was waiting to receive him. Beside him stood Rain Crow, the noted Minneconjoux medicine man, who was the father of Sun Bird and Little Raven. The most renowned men of the tribe composed the company which Curly Horse had summoned to greet the Ogalala. They were dressed in their choicest possessions and they made a splendid appearance. Each of them wore the coveted war bonnet of eagle plumes, and carried his coupstick with a record of his achievements on the war trail. It was a notable gathering, and White Otter thrilled with pride as he looked upon those splendid men of the great Dacotah nation.

Curly Horse, the chief, was particularly imposing. He was a middle-aged man, tall, and of powerful physique, with stern features, and steady, penetrating eyes. His voice was deep and commanding, and he carried himself with the pride and dignity appropriate to his rank. He wore a great headdress of eagle feathers which extended to the ground. Each feather was tipped with a small tuft of hair taken from the scalps of his foes. His buckskin shirt was decorated with weasel tails, and mystic symbols traced with colored porcupine quills. His buckskin breeches were deeply fringed, and ornamented with porcupine quills and elk teeth. A breastplate composed of the leg bones of deer covered his breast. About his neck was a necklace of bear claws. His moccasins were of buffalo hide, beautifully decorated with porcupine quills and colored grass. Over his arm he carried a magnificent robe of the grizzly bear.

"White Otter, you have come to my lodge—it is good," said Curly Horse. "These great warriors have come here to meet you. Many moons have passed since you came here before. My people have talked about you. They wanted you to come back. Now I will tell you that we feel good because you have come here."

"I have listened to the words of the great chief, Curly Horse," replied White Otter. "They make me feel good. I will keep them in my heart. The Minneconjoux are my brothers. When my brothers call, I come. My brother Sun Bird called me. I am here. I am going with my brothers to fight the Blackfeet. We will bring back many ponies."

As White Otter ceased speaking Curly Horse glanced at Rain Crow and the famous medicine man stepped forward to greet the Ogalala.

Rain Crow appeared older and less robust than his chief, but he, too, was of striking appearance. His face was seamed and scarred, and his hair was streaked with gray. His eyes, however, flashed with the fire of youth. He wore a large wolfskin cap decorated with a great pair of buffalo horns. His face was painted with white clay. His hair was divided into two braids bound with otter skin. His buckskin shirt and breeches were decorated with mysterious medicine symbols. About his neck was a necklace of sacred charms or tokens, each believed to possess some strange power which would aid him in overcoming the Evil Spirits, and preserve him from the attacks of his foes. In his right hand he carried the sacred medicine pipe. Over his left arm was a handsome robe of wolfskins.

"White Otter, Curly Horse has spoken," said Rain Crow. "Now I will give you some words. I feel good when I see you here. You are a young man, but you are a great chief. I believe you will do something big when you meet the boastful Blackfeet. White Otter, you say that Sun Bird and Little Raven are your brothers. It is good. I will make you my son. My son, the lodge of Rain Crow is open for you. I have spoken."

"Rain Crow, you are a great Medicine Person," replied White Otter. "You have done some big things. I have heard my people talk about you. It is true that Sun Bird and Little Raven are my brothers. You have called me your son. It is a great thing. I feel good about it. I will tell my people about it. It will make them feel big. My father, I will bring you some ponies from the Blackfeet camp. I have finished."

Many other noted warriors made speeches praising the ability and courage of the young Ogalala, and welcoming him to the Minneconjoux camp. When the ceremony was finally concluded Sun Bird escorted White Otter to the lodge of Rain Crow.

"Now I will tell you how the Blackfeet ran off all those ponies," Sun Bird said, when they were alone.

"Yes, tell me about it," urged White Otter.

"We were dancing the Buffalo Dance," said Sun Bird. "My father was singing the Medicine Songs. The people were sitting near the fire. The fast war ponies were tied near the lodges, but many good hunting ponies were out on the plain. We left them there because our scouts did not see any signs of enemies. Only a few boys were watching those ponies. Well, while the people were dancing and singing we heard a great noise. There were many shouts. Then we heard many ponies running. Pretty soon a boy rode into the village. He was shouting, 'The Blackfeet! The Blackfeet! They have run off the ponies!' Then we jumped upon the war ponies, and were going out to chase the Blackfeet, but Curly Horse held us back. 'Wait!' shouted Curly Horse. 'Perhaps it is a trick. Perhaps a great war party is about to rush into the camp. We will watch, and see what comes of it.' We knew that those were good words, and we waited to guard the camp. Well, no one came. Then we knew that the Blackfeet had gone away with the ponies. When it got light one of the boys came back. His pony fell down and died when he came into the village. He rode a long ways to get away from the Blackfeet. The other boy did not come back. The Blackfeet must have carried him away."

"Who is he?" inquired White Otter.

"He is Dancing Rabbit," Sun Bird told him.

"His father was Lame Wolf. He was killed by our enemies, the Crows. His mother fell into the water, and was carried away by the fierce Water Monsters. Old Spotted Face is his grandfather. He feels very bad about this thing."

"I know Spotted Face," said White Otter. "He is a great man. We must try to help him."

"Perhaps we will find Dancing Rabbit in the Blackfeet camp," replied Sun Bird.

The day had already ended, and as the evening shadows fell upon the camp the Minneconjoux began preparations for the great war dance. A large fire was lighted in the center of the village, and the entire tribe assembled to honor the men who were going to fight the Blackfeet. The warriors who had enlisted in the war party marched noisily about the camp, singing their war songs, and shouting boastful threats against their foes. As they finally approached the council fire they were greeted with wild yells of approval from the great company who awaited them. Then all subsided into respectful silence as Curly Horse and the principal chiefs of the tribe walked solemnly into the council circle.

After the chief and his escort had taken positions, the warriors lined up before him and waited for him to address them. He looked upon them with pride and affection. Most of them were young men in the prime of their youth, and their bold, flashing eyes and fearless faces proclaimed their courage. They were led by Sun Bird who had organized the war party. He called White Otter to stand beside him, and the Minneconjoux murmured approval of the honor.

"My brothers, I see that you are ready for war," said Curly Horse. "You are going to fight the Blackfeet. It is good. They are our enemies. They have carried off many of our ponies. You must bring them back. You must also bring some good Blackfeet ponies. Perhaps you will find Dancing Rabbit in the Blackfeet camp. Then you must carry him away. Spotted Face is waiting for him. I will not tell you how to fight. You are Dacotahs. It is enough. Now I will ask Rain Crow to give you some words."

Before speaking, Rain Crow drew an ember from the fire and lighted the sacred medicine pipe. Then he puffed the smoke toward the heavens, toward the earth, and toward each of the four winds. He kept up a weird, high-pitched chant, and tossed small handfuls of dried sweet grass into the flames. It was evident that he was asking success for the war party, and the Minneconjoux watched him with grave interest. When he had completed the ceremony, he stood some time staring fixedly at the stars. Then he addressed the war company.

"My friends, you have seen me smoke the great Medicine Pipe," he said. "It is good. It will help you. I have asked Wakantunka, the Great Mystery, to make you strong. I have asked the Good Spirits to help you. I have asked the Bad Spirits to do you no harm. I believe everything will be good. I believe you will overcome the Blackfeet. Listen, my friends, I hear the noise of many ponies running. Yes, yes, those are Sioux ponies. Yes, I hear some Blackfeet ponies. They are running toward the Minneconjoux camp. I see these brave young men riding behind them."

His prophecy roused the Minneconjoux. Men, women and children united their voices in the war cry of the Dacotahs. It rang through the camp, and echoed off across the plain as a challenge to their foes. Rain Crow laughed, and shook his clenched hand toward the north.

"Hi, you Blackfeet people, do you hear that noise?" he cried, excitedly. "Pretty soon you will know what it means. Then you will shake, and cry like young deer when they hear the wolf cry."

His words again threw the people into a frenzy of excitement. The war cry again rang out across the plain, and before the sound had died away the warriors had assembled for the war dance. They formed a large circle about the fire, and stood awaiting the word from Sun Bird, their leader. A number of aged men had come forward with the war drums, and taken places near the dancers. A hush fell upon the vast assemblage, as the Minneconjoux watched eagerly for the interesting spectacle to begin.

Then Sun Bird raised his voice in the familiar strains of the great war song, and the dance began. Keeping time with the solemn, rhythmical throbbing of the war drums, the dancers moved slowly about the fire chanting the boastful words of the war song, and flourishing their weapons. They had not circled many times about the fire, however, before they cast off restraint, and flung themselves into ecstasies of the dance with wild abandon. The war song was forgotten, as the dancers began to shout their boasts and threats against the powerful foes in the north. Each moment added to their excitement, and as the war drums throbbed in shorter, quicker beats, the dancers quickened their steps to hold the rhythm. Although each held his place in the circle, they had abandoned all attempt to dance in unison, and each man was interpreting the spirit of the dance to suit himself. All, however, kept time to the beats of the war drums, and the droning chants of the aged musicians. As quick and sinewy as mountain cats, the young warriors pranced about the fire in a frenzy of enthusiasm. Each tried to surpass his fellows in the mad antics of the dance, and their maneuvers brought yells of approval from the fascinated onlookers. At one moment the dancers would stoop near the ground, and dance forward with short, mincing steps, shading their eyes with their hands, as if searching for the trail of their foes. Then they would suddenly spring upright and announce their success with a piercing whoop. A moment afterward they would leap forward with war club raised to deliver the fatal stroke. Then they would begin a wild dance about the fallen foe. Some of the older warriors carried their coupsticks with the trophies won on former war expeditions. As they danced they shook these priceless possessions before the envious eyes of their tribesmen. Sometimes one of those dancers would drive his coupstick in the ground while he and several companions danced wildly about it, rushing up to touch it and reciting some great achievement as they did so. Then all would suddenly stand transfixed in their places while they raised their faces toward the stars, and united their voices in the piercing Dacotah war cry.

The spectacle was weird and fascinating. The grotesque contortions of the dancers in the lurid glare of the fire, the fierce expression on their faces, the solemn throbbing of the war drums, the picturesque assemblage of spectators, the dim, ghostly outlines of the lodges in the shadows, the gaunt, wolf-like dogs skulking along the edge of the camp, made a striking impression on the memory.

White Otter, as a famous war chief of the Ogalalas, was entitled to stand with Curly Horse and the prominent men of the tribe. He declined the honor, however, and took his place in the circle of dancers. The Minneconjoux watched him with approving eyes as he threw himself into the spirit of the dance. When the ceremony was finally brought to an end toward daylight, Curly Horse called the Ogalala to his lodge.

"White Otter, you are a great warrior," said Curly Horse. "A great warrior must have a good horse. The Pawnees have killed your war pony. It is true that you have taken a good pony from those boastful people. Well, you are a Dacotah, and you must ride a Dacotah pony. I am going to give you one of my fastest ponies to ride to the Blackfeet camp. I have spoken."

"Curly Horse, you have done a big thing," White Otter replied, gratefully. "You are a great chief, and I know that you have the fastest ponies. Yes, I will ride your pony to the Blackfeet camp."

"It is good," declared Curly Horse.

When White Otter told Sun Bird of the gift which he had received from Curly Horse, Sun Bird beamed with pleasure. He believed that there were few, if any, ponies in the entire Dacotah nation which possessed the speed and endurance of those owned by the great Minneconjoux chief.

"Perhaps when you ride that horse you will leave me far behind," Sun Bird said, banteringly.

"Well, my brother, if I get to the Blackfeet camp ahead of you I will leave some Blackfeet for you to kill," laughed White Otter.

CHAPTER IV

AWAY INTO THE NORTH

As White Otter and Sun Bird came from the lodge at dawn they found a boy waiting with a fiery little piebald pony.

"Curly Horse has sent you this pony," said the lad, as he passed the lariat to White Otter.

"Tell the great chief Curly Horse that White Otter feels good about this thing," said the Ogalala.

"I know that pony," Sun Bird told him. "It is very fast, but it is very wild. You must watch out for it."

"I will ride it," White Otter assured him.

He was no sooner upon its back, however, than the hot-tempered little beast began to rear and plunge in a manner that would have proved disastrous to a less expert rider. White Otter, however, refused to be thrown, and Sun Bird whooped with boyish glee as he capered wildly about the rearing pony and shouted encouragement to his friend. His shouts soon brought an appreciative audience from the lodges, and White Otter realized that his reputation as a horseman was at stake. He set his sinewy thighs more closely behind the shoulders of the plunging piebald, and pulled hard on the lariat which was twisted about the animal's lower jaw. The Minneconjoux soon saw that he was an expert, and they offered neither criticism nor advice. They watched with flashing eyes as horse and rider fought for supremacy. Then the pony suddenly whirled about and dashed among them, and they scattered like a covey of frightened quail to avoid the flying hoofs. The piebald bucked its way through the center of the camp, with a great company of men and boys racing along behind it and yelling at the top of their voices. Some women were broiling meat near the end of the village, and as they heard the wild commotion, and saw the pony racing directly toward them, they fled to the lodges in a panic, crying out that the Blackfeet had invaded the camp.

In the meantime the piebald had collided with a number of other high-spirited ponies which were tied before the lodges of their owners, and several of the animals broke loose and imitated the mad antics of the piebald. In a few moments the entire camp was in an uproar. The barking of the dogs, the shouts of the men, the screams of the women, and the frightened cries of the children mingled in one great din which turned the village into bedlam.

"It is bad," cried Curly Horse, as he watched the disorder from the entrance to his lodge. "Some Evil Spirit must have gone into that horse."

The piebald, however, had finally exhausted itself. It stood upon trembling legs at the edge of the camp, with its head lowered in defeat. White Otter reached over, and gently stroked the sweaty neck. Then he raised its head and spoke sharply, and the piebald gave obedience to its master. He rode directly to the lodge of Curly Horse.

"That is a bad horse," said Curly Horse. "I will give you another pony."

"No, no!" cried White Otter. "I will keep this pony. It is fast, and strong. It will make a great war pony."

"Well, I see that you can ride it, so I will say no more about it," replied Curly Horse.

The wild escapade of the little piebald had aroused the camp, and as the members of the war party finally rounded up the loose ponies, and assembled in the center of the village, the entire tribe gathered to witness the departure. When the gallant company was ready to leave, Curly Horse came forward to address them.

"My brothers, you are about to ride away to the great Blackfeet camp," he said. "Before you lies a long and dangerous trail. We have many enemies in that country. The Blackfeet are the strongest. They are very sly. You must be as brave as great Matohota, the bear, and as cunning as Tokala, the little gray fox. I see many brave warriors among you. I see Sun Bird, your leader. He is a great warrior. I see White Otter, the great Ogalala chief. I see Little Raven. He is very young, but he has done big things. I see Short Bear. He is very brave. I see Feather Dog. He is a great scout. I see Lean Wolf and Sitting Eagle. They have been on many war trails. I see many more brave warriors. It is a great war party. I believe you will do what you are setting out to do. I believe you will bring back many ponies. I will ask Wakantunka, the Great Mystery, to help you. I will ask our brother, Huya, the great war bird, to lead you to the Blackfeet camp. Go, my brothers, Curly Horse has spoken."

"Curly Horse, you have given us big words," replied Sun Bird. "We will keep them in our hearts. We will remember that we are Dacotahs. It is enough. We will go."

A few moments afterward the war party rode from the village. Many of the older warriors who were remaining behind to guard the camp accompanied the war party some distance across the plain. The old men, the boys, and the women and children gathered at the edge of the camp, singing the war songs, and calling upon Wakantunka to protect their warriors from the fierce and warlike Blackfeet.

Sun Bird asked White Otter to ride with him at the head of the company. The youthful Minneconjoux war leader fully realized his responsibility, and he was glad to have the aid and counsel of the famous young war chief whom he had asked to accompany him.

The war party was not a large one. It contained less than a third of the fighting men of the tribe. The Minneconjoux feared to send a larger force from the village, for they knew that their old enemies, the Crows, as well as several scouting parties of Blackfeet, had recently been seen within a day's travel of the Minneconjoux camp. They determined, therefore, to send a small force of picked warriors against the Blackfeet in the hope of recovering the stolen ponies, and learning the fate of the young Minneconjoux who had been carried away. The company chosen for the perilous undertaking was composed mostly of young warriors famous for their courage and fighting ability, and a few older veterans, like Lean Wolf and Sitting Eagle, whose mature judgment would check the reckless impetuosity of their younger companions.

"Well, my brother, how do you feel about this thing?" Sun Bird suddenly asked White Otter, as they cantered along in advance of the war party.

"The Blackfeet are very strong," White Otter replied, thoughtfully. "Wolf Robe, my grandfather, has told me about them. I have never fought those people. Wolf Robe says that they are braver than the Pawnees. Do you know about them?"

"Yes, I have fought against them many times," Sun Bird told him. "They are the enemies of my people. They are brave. Many Buffaloes is their chief. He is a great warrior. He rides a mysterious war pony. It is as swift as the wind, and as black as the night. Its eyes shine like the little lights up there in the High Place. My people believe it must be a Medicine Pony. Curly Horse would give many good presents for that pony."

At that moment their talk was interrupted by the appearance of a golden eagle, the war bird of the Dacotahs, which was circling slowly some distance toward the north. The superstitious Minneconjoux immediately accepted it as a good omen, as they recalled the words of Curly Horse, their chief.

"See, there is Huya, the great war bird," they cried. "Curly Horse has sent him to lead us to the Blackfeet camp. Come, Huya, our brother, look about you, and show us where our enemies are hiding."

The eagle, however, soon disappeared into the clouds, and the Minneconjoux cried, "Huya has gone up there to look around. He is looking for the Blackfeet. When he sees them he will fly over them, and show us where they are."

As they moved farther from the camp Sun Bird began to take precautions against the possibility of encountering foes. Two scouts were detailed on either flank of the war party, and other riders dropped back to guard the rear. Sun Bird, White Otter and Little Raven rode some distance in front. Thus the courageous band of Dacotahs made their way across the great plain that extended for unknown leagues into the northward, the stronghold of the mighty Blackfeet nation.

The day was two thirds gone when White Otter suddenly discovered a horseman on the summit of a low ridge far away toward the west. He immediately stopped and showed him to Sun Bird and Little Raven. Apparently aware that he had been seen, the distant rider began to ride rapidly in a circle. It was the signal for danger. Sun Bird appeared alarmed.

"It is one of our scouts," he said, uneasily. "Running Dog and Lean Wolf went that way. That man is far away, but I believe he is Lean Wolf. He has seen something bad. Come, Little Raven, go and find out about it."

As Little Raven raced away to meet the scout, the main company of riders came up. They, too, had discovered the rider on the ridge, and many of them were eager to go over there in the hope of finding foes.

"No, that would be foolish," Sun Bird said, firmly. "We will wait here until Little Raven comes back and tells us about it. That scout has not called us. He is telling us that he has seen something. See, Little Raven is a long ways off. Pretty soon we will know about this thing. We must wait."

"It is the only thing to do," agreed the famous warrior, Sitting Eagle.

They watched anxiously as the scout turned his pony down the ridge, and rode to meet Little Raven. The distance made positive identification difficult, but most of them agreed that it was Lean Wolf. When the two riders finally met, the members of the war party watched them with breathless interest. They also watched the plain in all directions for the sudden appearance of foes. Then the warriors who had been loitering in the rear overtook them.

"What has happened?" they inquired anxiously. "Who is over there?"

"Lean Wolf has made the danger signal," explained their comrades. "Little Raven has gone over to find out about it. Did you see anything?"

"We saw some wolves," replied the scouts.

"Perhaps they were Pawnees," suggested Sun Bird.

"No, we saw them running on the plain, and they were wolves," declared High Hawk, one of the warriors who had composed the rear guard.

"See, Little Raven is coming back," White Otter told Sun Bird. "He is riding fast. He has something to tell us."

"Lean Wolf has gone back to the ridge," said Sun Bird.

They waited impatiently as Little Raven rode toward them at top speed. In the meantime the other rider was cantering toward the ridge. When he reached it he rode up the low slope and disappeared over the summit.

"Lean Wolf has gone to watch something," declared his tribesmen.

When Little Raven finally reached them they listened with eager attention while he told Sun Bird what he had learned.

"That man is Lean Wolf," said Little Raven. "He found fresh pony tracks over beyond that ridge. They were going the way we are going. There were many ponies. They were riding ponies. There were no marks of lodge poles. Lean Wolf says it must be a war party. He does not know who they are. Running Dog is following the trail. Lean Wolf says that we must watch sharp when night comes. He says that we must stop pretty soon at the water place. Then he will know where to find us. Perhaps he will come when it gets dark. Perhaps he will go to find the camp of those people. My brothers, I have brought you the words of Lean Wolf."

"It is good," replied Sun Bird. "My friends, you have heard the words of our brother, Lean Wolf. I believe that some of our enemies are over there behind that ridge. Lean Wolf says there are many pony tracks. There must be many riders. Perhaps it is a big war party. We must watch sharp. We will go ahead until we come to the water place. Then we will stop. Perhaps Lean Wolf will come there after it gets dark."

As they were about to resume their way they saw one of the scouts from the east riding toward them. As he came nearer they recognized him as Feather Dog.

"Why have you stopped?" Feather Dog inquired, curiously.

"Lean Wolf found many pony tracks over there behind that ridge," they told him.

"Perhaps those are the ponies which the Blackfeet took away," said Feather Dog.

"No, the tracks are fresh," Sun Bird explained.

"Then we must watch out," declared the famous scout.

"Did you see anything over there?" inquired the Minneconjoux.

"We saw some buffaloes, but they were far away," replied Feather Dog.

After he had learned where his comrades intended to stop for the night, he immediately left them, and rode away to join his companion, a young warrior named Proud Hawk. At the same time the war party resumed their way toward the north. They were enthusiastic over the possibility of an early encounter with their foes, and Sun Bird had considerable difficulty in restraining some of the younger warriors who were eager to ride after the unknown horsemen. His rank as war leader, however, gave him authority to command. They accepted his orders, therefore, and followed him across the plain, chanting their war songs, and boasting of the deeds which they pledged themselves to perform.

The evening shadows were already falling when the Sioux finally came in sight of the appointed camp site. It was a small water hole in the midst of a straggling growth of stunted trees. However, as it offered good pasturage for the ponies, it was a favorite stopping place. It marked the northern boundary of the Minneconjoux hunting grounds, and few of even the most venturesome hunters cared to risk going farther into the north unless accompanied by a strong force of their tribesmen. It was dangerous ground, as both the Blackfeet and the Crows were constantly roaming about those boundless northern plains.

"Well, my friends, we will stop here until the next sun comes up," said Sun Bird, as he dismounted from his pony.

CHAPTER V

SIOUX SCOUTS

Alert to their peril, the Sioux took every precaution against an attack. As the twilight slowly faded, and the night shadows settled upon the plain, the ponies were picketed in a circle about the camp site, and details of warriors were appointed to take turns in watching through the night. There was no fire, and the evening meal consisted of the usual war rations of dried buffalo meat and berries.

The warriors who had been scouting behind the war party arrived at the camp site before dark, but the scouts who had ridden along the flanks failed to appear. The absence of Feather Dog and Proud Hawk, who had been scouting toward the east, caused considerable comment. The Sioux knew that some time might pass before Lean Wolf and Running Dog gained the desired information about the mysterious horsemen to the westward, but they were keenly curious to know what had detained Feather Dog and his companion.

"Perhaps something bad has happened to them," suggested a young warrior named Many Feathers.

"No, I do not believe it," Sun Bird declared, confidently. "Feather Dog is a great scout. He has been on many war trails. It is hard to catch an old wolf. Come, White Otter, you are a great war leader. Tell us how you feel about it."

"My brothers, what Sun Bird says is true," declared White Otter, "Feather Dog is a great scout. Perhaps he is trying to find out about something. I believe he will come here."

While they were talking the familiar bark of the little gray fox sounded from the eastward. It was speedily answered, and a few moments afterward Feather Dog and Proud Hawk rode to the camp site.

"Well, my brother, what did you find?" Sun Bird asked Feather Dog.

"We saw three scouts," replied Feather Dog. "They were far away and they did not see us. We hid behind a hill, and watched them a long time. Then we followed them. When it got dark we could not find them. They did not make a fire. I believe they were looking for enemies."

"Do you know who they are?" Sun Bird inquired, eagerly.

"No, we could not get close enough to find out about it," Feather Dog told him.

"Which way were they going?" asked Sun Bird.

"They were going the same way we are going, but they were far away toward the place where the sun comes up," replied the scout.

"My brothers, you have heard the words of Feather Dog," said Sun Bird. "Our enemies are on two sides of us. We must be very cautious. We will wait here until it gets light. Perhaps Lean Wolf will come and tell us something."

In the meantime the wily Sioux prepared themselves against the possibility of a sudden attack. The camp was surrounded by sharp-eared scouts who stationed themselves some distance out on the plain to listen for the approach of foes. The ponies were picketed inside the circle of warriors, who lay upon the plain with their weapons beside them.

Sun Bird and White Otter, however, remained awake. The young Minneconjoux war leader was anxious to consult his friend concerning the perilous advance across the Blackfeet hunting grounds. The young warriors moved beyond earshot of their companions, therefore, and seated themselves to talk.

"White Otter, I believe we are in danger," said Sun Bird.

"It is true," White Otter replied, soberly. "There are many enemies in this country. I believe we will have some big fights before we get to the Blackfeet camp."

Sun Bird was about to reply when they were startled by a strange rumbling noise toward the north. They listened a moment in anxious suspense, and then they leaped to their feet in alarm. It sounded like the hoofbeats of many ponies bearing down upon the camp site.

"Call our people! Call our people!" cried Sun Bird, as he rushed to arouse the sleeping Minneconjoux.

At that moment they heard the guards, who had been stationed on the plain, racing toward the camp. The picketed ponies were plunging and snorting, and the alarmed Minneconjoux were frantically untying the picket ropes.

"The Blackfeet! The Blackfeet!" they shouted, excitedly.

"Tatanka! Tatanka! The buffaloes! The buffaloes!" cried the sentinels who had been watching on the north side of the camp.

Then the Sioux suddenly realized the truth. A vast herd of stampeded buffaloes were thundering down upon them. There was not a moment to spare. Springing upon the frightened ponies, the Sioux rode madly into the night to escape from the great mass of panic-stricken beasts behind them. The buffaloes were sweeping across the plain with the irresistible force of an avalanche, and the horsemen knew that only the speed of their ponies could save them. They kept close together, and rode at a breakneck pace. A false step meant destruction for horse and rider, and the Sioux made little attempt to guide the agile little beasts beneath them.

Sun Bird and White Otter soon found themselves beside one another at the head of the company. The two ponies were running evenly, and it was apparent that neither of them had reached the limit of its speed. Nevertheless, they were well in advance of all the other ponies, and appeared to be increasing their lead with each stride.

"That wild horse can run," laughed Sun Bird as his blood tingled with the excitement of the race. "Come, we will see what that pony can do."

"Hi!" shouted White Otter, as Sun Bird suddenly took the lead.

He had carefully estimated the ability of the little roan which Sun Bird rode, and felt sure that it was a worthy competitor for the piebald. Now, as Sun Bird applied his rawhide quirt, the roan began to show its speed. The piebald, however, quickly accepted the challenge, and although White Otter made no effort to force it the fiery little beast was soon at the shoulder of the roan. Then they raced madly through the darkness at a speed which few if any of the ponies in the great Dacotah nation could equal. Sun Bird was leaning forward and vigorously applying his whip. White Otter, however, was still allowing the piebald to make its own pace. Inch by inch it crept steadily forward until the roan's lead was cut to a nose length. Then, as he perceived that the roan had reached the limit of its powers, White Otter pulled heavily against the lower jaw of the piebald. He knew that a few more strides would take it into the lead, and regard for the pride of his friend made him unwilling to claim the victory.

"Listen," he cried, suddenly. "Our people have turned around. Come, we must follow them."

"No! No! I see what you are trying to do," Sun Bird cried, impatiently. "Come, let me see that pony run."

Then the Minneconjoux struck the piebald a sharp blow with his quirt, and the marvelous beast bounded past him and raced away at a speed which astounded its rider. White Otter could scarcely believe that he was mounted upon a creature of real flesh and blood, for the piebald was rushing through the night at a pace which seemed beyond the powers of anything mortal. Carried away with enthusiasm, the Ogalala applied his quirt for the first time, and the piebald reached the limit of its speed. White Otter was forced to crouch close over the pony's neck to keep his breath. He was dazed by the pace at which he was being carried across the plain. It seemed as if he were flying through space on the wings of a tempest.

"It must be a Medicine Horse," he whispered, superstitiously.

When he finally succeeded in pulling the piebald to a canter, he found that he had completely lost Sun Bird, and the valiant little roan. He had also raced beyond sound of the buffalo herd. The piebald was breathing hard, but it showed no signs of exhaustion, and White Otter believed that its stamina was equal to its speed. Then, as he stopped to listen, he heard a signal some distance toward the east. He had heard the Minneconjoux turn in that direction as Sun Bird forced him into the last desperate sprint. It was evident, therefore, that having gained a sufficient lead upon the buffaloes, the Minneconjoux were circling back toward the camp site. He believed that the signal was from Sun Bird. To reassure him, White Otter replied with the bark of the little gray fox.

"Hi! the buffaloes are coming," he said, as he heard the distant rumble of their hoof beats.

Realizing that he was directly in their path, White Otter turned his pony toward the east, and rode off at a brisk canter. The buffalo herd was a long ways behind him, and he had little fear of being overtaken. There were other perils, however, which caused him more concern. He had heard Feather Dog tell of three mysterious riders to the eastward, and it was possible that they were scouts from a larger company. Therefore, White Otter determined to advance with caution. He believed that Sun Bird was close at hand, and his first thought was to find him. It was not long before he overtook him.

"Ho, my brother, that pony did not come back as fast as he went away," laughed Sun Bird.

"It is foolish to run when the race is finished," replied White Otter.

"That is the fastest horse I ever saw," Sun Bird declared, enthusiastically.

"Do you believe that this pony could catch that great horse of Many Buffaloes, the Blackfeet chief?" White Otter asked, eagerly.

"No," Sun Bird told him. "There is no Dacotah pony that can catch that horse."

White Otter was not so sure about it. He could not believe that any horse had greater speed than the piebald. He kept his opinion to himself, however, as he did not wish to appear boastful before his friend.

"Well, we got away from those buffaloes," said Sun Bird. "Now we must go back to the water place. We will find our friends there."

Feeling sure that they had passed beyond the edge of the great buffalo herd, they began to circle toward the camp site. They were riding at an easy canter, when they were suddenly halted by the howling of a prairie wolf directly ahead of them. Determined to take no chances, they listened to convince themselves that the call was genuine.

"Yes, it is Mayash," declared Sun Bird.

As White Otter agreed that it really was a wolf which had raised the cry, they advanced on their way. However, they neither saw nor heard anything of the skulking gray prowler. It was evident that the wolf had slunk away at their approach.

Then as they drew near the camp site the little piebald raised its head, and whinnied softly. The cautious young Sioux again stopped to investigate. They knew that the piebald had caught the scent of other ponies. While they waited, listening for a clew, the familiar Dacotah signal sounded within bow range of them.

"It is good," said Sun Bird. "We have found our people."

A few moments later they met the scout who had challenged them. He was Hollow Bear, a famous Minneconjoux hunter.

"We have been watching for you," Hollow Bear told them. "There is much buffalo meat at the water place. Some of the buffaloes ran against the trees. Some fell into the water hole. Some were dead. Some we killed. There must have been many buffaloes in that herd. The ground is all broken up."

"Has Lean Wolf come here?" Sun Bird inquired, eagerly.

"No," replied Hollow Bear.

They left the scout, and rode on toward the camp site. They found the members of the war party lying some distance out on the plain, as the camp site was littered with the bodies of dead buffaloes. The Sioux said that they had dragged several of the great beasts from the pool.

"It is good that we got away," said Sun Bird. "Those buffaloes would have pounded us into the ground."

"Well, there is good meat over there but we cannot use it," complained Sitting Eagle. "There are many robes, but there is little hair upon them."

The Minneconjoux said that they had ridden far enough to get a safe distance in front of the herd, and then they had turned eastward and circled back to the camp site. They seemed rather curious to know why Sun Bird and White Otter had been so long returning. Those crafty young warriors, however, made no explanation. White Otter had no desire to proclaim the superiority of his pony, and Sun Bird was quite content to keep silent concerning the defeat of his famous little roan.

Dawn was breaking when Running Dog, the companion of Lean Wolf rode in from the west. The war party crowded eagerly about him, asking for news of the horsemen whom he and Lean Wolf had followed.

"We followed those people a long ways," Running Dog told them. "When it got dark we saw their fire. We went pretty close. Then we got down from our ponies. We turned their heads out of the wind so they would not call. I held the ponies. Lean Wolf crawled up near the fire. He was away a long time. Then he came back, and told me about those people. They are Crows. They are carrying meat. It is a great hunting party. They are going straight ahead. Lean Wolf says that you must watch sharp. Perhaps the Crows will send out scouts. Perhaps they will see you. Then there will be a fight. Lean Wolf says to go straight ahead. We will keep following the Crows until we find out where they are going. Then we will come and tell you about it. I cannot tell you any more."

"It is good," replied Sun Bird. "Tell Lean Wolf that we will do as he tells us to do. We will keep a sharp watch for our enemies."

CHAPTER VI

THE LONE RIDER