"'Tain't English."

"Wellington."

"Too long."

As he seemed to have no choice in naming his own dog, Whitey turned in
despair to Injun, who had stood solemnly by. "How about you?" Whitey
asked. "Haven't you a name to suggest?"

The dog knew that he was the subject of the talk, and possibly felt that
he ought to keep awake, for he sat on the veranda and blinked at the
humans. Injun gazed at him stolidly.

"Huh!" he grunted. "Sittin' Bull."

"Great!" cried all the others.

This matter settled, the men went away. Sitting Bull stretched himself
out on the veranda and again fell asleep, and Whitey told Injun that the
dog's coming probably was a good omen. That there ought to be something
doing on the ranch now.




CHAPTER II

A SURPRISE