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