One day the men went out to hunt. At sundown they came back, but the
Blackfoot did not return. Next day the men went out to look for him, and
they searched all over the country. Many days they hunted for the
Blackfoot, but he was never seen again. Some said he had gone back to his
people. Some said that a bear might have killed him, or he might have
fallen from his horse and been killed, and some said that a war party must
have killed him and taken the horse with them. Neither man nor horse was
seen again."




_Among Enemy Lodges._


It was late in the winter, when I was fifteen years old, that I made my
first trip to war. We were camped on a large river, and not far from our
camp was a village of the Arapahoes.

One day I went to visit their camp, taking with me only my buffalo robe and
my bow and arrows. At the camp I found a number of young men of my tribe,
and I went into the lodge where they were sitting, and sat down near the
door. Soon after I had entered a young man of my tribe proposed that our
young men should gamble against the young men of the Arapahoes, and when
they had agreed, we all left the lodge where we were sitting, and went off
to that owned by Shaved-head. I followed along after the others, and when I
entered the lodge I found that they were making ready to gamble. The
counters were lying between the lines, ten of the sticks lying side by
side, and two lying across the ten.