through his enemy's heart. The Snake quivered, half rose up, and with a
groan fell back dead. Then Mik-a'pi took his scalp and his bow and arrows,
and also his bundle of moccasins; and as daylight had come, he went out of
the cave and looked all about. No one was in sight. Probably the Snake,
like himself, had gone alone to war. But, ever cautious, he travelled only
a short distance, and waited for night before going on. The rain had ceased
and the day was warm. He took a piece of dried meat and back fat from his
pouch and ate them, and, after drinking from the river, he climbed up on a
high rock wall and slept.

Now in his dream he fought with a strange people, and was wounded. He felt
blood trickling from his wounds, and when he awoke, he knew that he had
been warned to turn back. The signs also were bad. He saw an eagle rising
with a snake, which dropped from its claws and escaped. The setting sun,
too, was painted[1],--a sure warning to people that danger is near. But, in
spite of all these things, Mik-a'pi determined to go on. He thought of the
poor widows mourning and waiting for revenge. He thought of the glad
welcome of the people, if he should return with many scalps; and he thought
also of two young sisters, whom he wanted to marry. Surely, if he could
return and bring the proofs of brave deeds, their parents would be glad to
give them to him.

[Footnote 1: Sun dogs.]



II

It was nearly night. The sun had already disappeared behind the
sharp-pointed gray peaks. In the fading light the far-stretching prairie