was turning dark. In a valley, sparsely timbered with quaking aspens and
cotton-woods, stood a large camp. For a long distance up and down the river
rose the smoke of many lodges. Seated on a little hill overlooking the
valley, was a single person. With his robe drawn tightly around him, he sat
there motionless, looking down on the prairie and valley below.

Slowly and silently something was crawling through the grass toward
him. But he heard nothing. Still he gazed eastward, seeking to discover any
enemy who might be approaching. Still the dark object crawled slowly
onward. Now it was so close to him that it could almost touch him. The
person thought he heard a sound, and started to turn round. Too late! Too
late! A strong arm grasped him about the neck and covered his mouth. A long
jagged knife was thrust into his breast again and again, and he died
without a cry. Strange that in all that great camp no one should have seen
him killed!

Still extended on the ground, the dark figure removed the scalp. Slowly he
crawled back down the hill, and was lost in the gathering darkness. It was
Mik-a'pi, and he had another Snake scalp tied to his belt. His heart was
glad, yet he was not satisfied. Some nights had passed since the bad signs
had warned him, yet he had succeeded. "One more," he said. "One more scalp
I must have, and then I will go back." So he went far up on the mountain,
and hid in some thick pines and slept. When daylight came, he could see
smoke rise as the women started their fires. He also saw many people rush
up on the hill, where the dead watcher lay. He was too far off to hear
their angry shouts and mournful cries, but he sung to himself a song of war
and was happy.

Once more the sun went to his lodge behind the mountains, and as darkness
came Mik-a'pi slowly descended the mountain and approached the camp. This