Again, and again, he tried different parties, only to be made fun
of and insulted.

One night he sat in the poor tepee of his parents. He was in deep
study and had nothing to say. His father, noticing his melancholy
mood, asked him what had happened to cause him to be so quiet, as
he was always of a jolly disposition. The son answered and said:

"Father, I am going on the warpath alone. In vain I have tried to
be a member of one of the war parties. To all of my pleadings I
have got nothing but insults in return."

"But my son, you have no gun nor ammunition. Where can you get any
and how can you get it? We have nothing to buy one for you with,"
said the father.

"I don't need any weapons. I am going to bring back some of the
enemies' horses, and I don't need a gun for that."

Early the next morning (regardless of the old couple's pleadings
not to go unarmed) the young man left the village and headed
northwest, the direction always taken by the war parties.

For ten days he traveled without seeing any signs of a camp. The
evening of the tenth day, he reached a very high butte, thickly
wooded at the summit. He ascended this butte, and as he sat there
between two large boulders, watching the beautiful rays of the
setting sun, he was suddenly startled to hear the neigh of a horse.
Looking down into the beautiful valley which was threaded by a
beautiful creek fringed with timber, he noticed close to the base