t. Slithering past him in the water
still persisted the mad rush of racing myriads. He threw the dead fish
back into the stream and raked out a fresher breakfast.

He poulticed a dozen fish with maple leaves and threw them in the
glowing coals of his fire. Ten minutes later he again began the
business of gorging himself on free fish.

"Don't cost me nuthin'." He clawed the water for another dozen
handfuls. "Free fish, howdy doo.

"I eats when I can git it.
I sleeps mos' all de time."

Gorged to the bursting point, the Wildcat rolled over in the warm
sunlight. He preferred not to go to sleep again, but in five minutes he
was snoring along at his old sixty-mile gait. He slept all day.

He was discovered and surrounded at evening by Running Bear and the
rest of the tribe.

Running Bear sized up the situation and pulled off a pow-wow with three
or four of his companions. They arrived at a verdict.

"A little black-face vaudeville might liven things up. These blasted
tribal ceremonies need a cabaret attachment to jazz them up. How about
it, redskins?"

"Let's go."

The verdict was unanimous.

Somewhere in the Wildcat's dreams there presently developed a rhythm in
which the cadence of dancing feet punctuated his slumbers. His eyes
opened finally, and within the range of his vision passed a parade of
leaping figures. To his ears came the regular booming beat of a
deerskin tom-tom, punctuated by an occasional blood-curdling yell.

His memory failed him.

"How come dis voodoo bizness?"

He sat up. He got to his feet and instinctively crouched to a running
position.

The ring of dancing warriors about him tightened up.

"Lady Luck, whah is you?"

Running Bear lifted a flint-tipped spear over his head and emitted a
shriek compared to which the Rebel yell was a chirp from the weakened
lungs of the dove of peace.

In spite of his fish-distended anatomy, the Wildcat shrivelled to boy's
size.

Running Bear emitted several mouthfuls of language.

"Naw suh, not me." The Wildcat denied everything. "I ain't only a field
han'. Lemme by, boy. Whah at's yo' pants? How come you runnin' around
nekked?"

"Waugh!"

Six Indians seized the Wildcat, and a moment later he was seated in the
stern of a twenty-foot skiff, which presently embarked upon the surface
of the Columbia. Beside the Wildcat sat Running Bear, speaking a fluent
mixture of Flathead and Chinook.

In time with Running Bear's measured periods,