long brown arm.

"For many heart-throbs he puffed out the blue smoke, which hung like a
cloud between us. But even through the smoke-mist I saw his sharp black
eyes glittering toward me. I longed to ask what doom awaited the young
murderer, but dared not open my lips, lest I burst forth into screams
instead. My father plied the question. Returning the pipe, the man
replied: 'Oh, the chieftain and his chosen men have had counsel
together. They have agreed it is not safe to allow a man-killer loose in
our midst. He who kills one of our tribe is an enemy, and must suffer
the fate of a foe.'

"My temples throbbed like a pair of hearts!

"While I listened, a crier passed by my father's tepee. Mounted, and
swaying with his pony's steps, he proclaimed in a loud voice these words
(hark! I hear them now!): "Ho-po! Give ear, all you people. A terrible
deed is done. Two friends--ay, brothers in heart--have quarreled
together. Now one lies buried on the hill, while the other sits, a
dreaded man-killer, within his dwelling." Says our chieftain: "He who
kills one of our tribe commits the offense of an enemy. As such he must
be tried. Let the father of the dead man choose the mode of torture or
taking of life. He has suffered livid pain, and he alone can judge how
great the punishment must be to avenge his wrong." It is done.

"'Come, every one, to witness the judgment of a father upon him who was
once his son's best friend. A wild pony is now lassoed. The man-killer
must mount and ride the ranting beast. Stand you all in two parallel
lines from the centre tepee of the bereaved family to the wigwam
opposite in the great outer ring. Between you, in the wide space, is the