to his people and spoke. "We will go back to our village. The
Yellow-Eyes do not want us among their carts--they are afraid. We will
camp near by them to-night, and tomorrow we will exchange gifts. Go
back, Chis-chis-chash, or the white chief says it is war. We do not want
war." This and much more said the chief and his older men to the
impulsive braves, whose uncontrollable appetites had been whetted
by the sight of the carts. The white man was firm and the Indians drew
off to await the coming of the village.

The two camps were pitched that night two miles apart; the Yellow-Eyes
intrenched behind their packs and carts, while the Indians, being in
overwhelming strength, did much as usual, except that the camp-soldiers
drove the irrepressible boys back, not minding to beat their ponies with
their whips when they were slow to go. There was nothing that a boy
could do except obey when the camp-soldier spoke to him. He was the one
restraint they had, the only one.

But as a mark of honor, the Bat and Red Arrow were given the
distinguished honor of observing the Yellow-Eyed camp all night, to note
its movements if any occurred, and with high hearts they sat under a
hill-top all through the cold darkness, and their souls were much
chastened by resisting the impulses to run off the white man's ponies,
which they conceived to be a very possible undertaking. The Bat even
declared that if he ever became a chief this policy of inaction would be
followed by one more suited to pony-loving young men.

Nothing having occurred, they returned before daylight to their own camp
so to inform the war-chief.

That day the Chis-chis-chash crowded around the barricade of the