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