muddy water; but the big dog made the one needed leap with unerring
aim and his teeth flashed as he caught the rabbit in viselike jaws
and held him limp in air, a victor!

The people rushed up to him as he laid the victim down, and
foremost among them was the frantic mother of Matohinshda, or Gall.
"Michinkshe! michinkshe!" (My son! my son!) she screamed as she
drew near. The boy seemed to be none the worse for his experience.
"Mother!" he cried, "my dog is brave: he got the rabbit!" She
snatched him off the travois, but he struggled out of her arms to
look upon his dog lovingly and admiringly. Old men and boys
crowded about the hero of the day, the dog, and the thoughtful
grandmother of Matohinshda unharnessed him and poured some water
from a parfleche water bag into a basin. "Here, my grandson, give
your friend something to drink."

"How, hechetu," pronounced an old warrior no longer in active
service. "This may be only an accident, an ordinary affair; but
such things sometimes indicate a career. The boy has had a
wonderful ride. I prophesy that he will one day hold the attention
of all the people with his doings."

This is the first remembered story of the famous chief, but
other boyish exploits foretold the man he was destined to be. He
fought many sham battles, some successful and others not; but he
was always a fierce fighter and a good loser.

Once he was engaged in a battle with snowballs. There were
probably nearly a hundred boys on each side, and the rule was that
every fair hit made the receiver officially dead. He must not