that spirits
didn't speak very choice Sioux, but he did his best. The bird cawed out:

"'Oh, Sun Boy, great chief, beware what you do!'

"And then the real bird flapped its wings and Morgan thought it was
going to fly, and he was lost. But it settled back again on the branch,
and Morgan proceeded to caw on:

"'Hurt not the white man, or the curses of the gods will come upon Sun
Boy and his people.'

"And he proceeded to give a list of what would happen if the Indians
touched a hair of their heads. By this time the red devils were all down
on their stomachs, moaning softly whenever Morgan stopped cawing. He
said he quite got into the spirit of it and would have liked to go on
some time, but he was beginning to get hoarse, and besides he was in
deadly terror for fear the crow would fly before he got to the point. So
he had the spirit order them to give the white men their horses and turn
them loose instanter; and just as he got all through, off went the thing
with a big flap and a parting caw on its own account. I wish I could
tell it as Morgan does--you'd think he was a bird and an Indian rolled
together. He's a great actor spoiled, that lad."

"You leave out a fine point, to my mind, Captain Booth," the Colonel
said quickly. "About his going back."

"Oh! certainly that ought to be told," said the Captain, and the
General's eyes turned to him again. "Morgan forgot to see young Blue
Arrow, his friend, before he got away, and nothing would do but that he
should go back and speak to him. He said the boy would be disappointed.
The men were visibly uneasy at his going, but that didn't affect him. He
ordered them to wait, and back he went, pell-mell, all alone into that
horde of fiends. They hadn't got over their funk, luckily, and he saw
Blue Arrow and made his party call and got out again all right. He
didn't tell that himself, but Sergeant O'Hara made the camp ring with
it. He adores Morgan, and claims that he doesn't know what fear is. I
believe it's about so. I've seen him in a fight three times now. His cap
always goes off--he loses a cap every blessed scrimmage--and with that
yellow mop of hair, and a sort of rapt expression he gets, he looks like
a child saying its prayers all the time he is slashing and shooting like
a berserker." Captain Booth faced abruptly toward the Colonel. "I beg
your pardon for talking so long, sir," he said. "You know we're all
rather keen about little Miles Morgan."

The General lifte