d since the bad signs
had warned him, yet he had succeeded. "One more," he said. "One more scalp
I must have, and then I will go back." So he went far up on the mountain,
and hid in some thick pines and slept. When daylight came, he could see
smoke rise as the women started their fires. He also saw many people rush
up on the hill, where the dead watcher lay. He was too far off to hear
their angry shouts and mournful cries, but he sung to himself a song of war
and was happy.

Once more the sun went to his lodge behind the mountains, and as darkness
came Mik-a'pi slowly descended the mountain and approached the camp. This
was the time of danger. Behind each bush, or hidden in a bunch of the tall
rye grass, some person might be watching to warn the camp of an approaching
enemy. Slowly and like a snake, he crawled around the outskirts of the
camp, listening and looking. He heard a cough and saw a movement of a
bush. There was a Snake. Could he kill him and yet escape? He was close
to him now. So he sat and waited, considering how to act. For a long time
he sat there waiting. The moon rose and travelled high in the sky. The
Seven Persons[1] slowly swung around, and pointed downward. It was the
middle of the night. Then the person in the bush stood up and stretched out
his arms and yawned, for he was tired of watching, and thought that no
danger was near; but as he stood thus, an arrow pierced his breast. He gave
a loud yell and tried to run, but another arrow struck him and he fell.

[Footnote 1: The constellation of the Great Bear.]

At the sound the warriors rushed forth from the lodges and the outskirts of
the camp; but as they came, Mik-a'pi tore the scalp from his fallen enemy,
and started to run toward the river. Close behind him followed the Snakes.
Arrows whizzed about him. One pierced his arm. He plucked it out. Another
struck his leg, and he fell. Then a great shout arose from the
Snakes. Their enemy was down. Now they would be revenged for two lately
taken lives. But where Mik-a'pi fell was the verge of a high rock wall;
below rushed the deep river, and even as they shouted, he rolled from the
wall, and disappeared in the dark water far below. In vain they searched
the shores and bars. They did not find him.

Mik-a'pi had sunk deep in the water. The current was swift, and when at
last he rose to the surface, he was far below his pursuers. The arrow in
his leg pained him, and with difficulty he crawled out on a