captured my lover, whom you now hold a prisoner. It is for
his sake that I have thus risked my life and honor!"

"Ho, ho! You are the bravest woman I have ever seen. Your lover was
betrayed into our hands by the treachery of one of his own tribe, who
shot his horse from behind. He faced us without fear, but it was not his
courage that saved his life. He resembles my own son, who lately fell in
battle, and according to the custom I have adopted him as my son!"

Thus the brave maiden captured the heart of the wily Crow, and was
finally allowed to return home with her lover, bearing many and rich
presents. Her name is remembered among the two tribes, for this act of
hers resulted in a treaty of peace between them which was kept for a
generation.

VII. THE FAITHFULNESS OF LONG EARS

Away beyond the Thin Hills, above the Big Lone Tree upon the Powder
River, the Uncpapa Sioux had celebrated their Sun Dance, some forty
years ago. It was midsummer and the red folk were happy. They lacked
for nothing. The yellowish green flat on either side of the Powder was
studded with wild flowers, and the cottonwood trees were in full leaf.
One large circle of buffalo skin teepees formed the movable village. The
Big Horn Mountains loomed up against the deep blue sky to the westward,
and the Black Hills appeared in the far southeast.

The tribal rites had all been observed, and the usual summer festivities
enjoyed to the full. The camp as it broke up divided itself in three
parts, each of which had determined to seek a favorite hunting-ground.

One band journeyed west, toward the Tongue River. One followed a
tributary of the Powder to the south. The third merely changed camp, on
account of the grazing for ponies, and for four days remained near the
old place.

The party that went west did not fail to realize the perilous nature
of their wanderings, for they were trespassing upon the country of the
warlike Crows.

On the third day at sunrise, the Sioux crier's voice resounded in the
valley of the Powder, announcing that the lodges must be razed and the
villagers must take up their march.

Breakfast of jerked buffalo meat had been served and the women were
adjusting their packs, not without much chatter and apparent confusion.
Weeko (Beautiful Woman), the young wife of the war-chief Shunkaska, who
had made many presents at the dances in honor of her twin boys, now
gave one of her remaining ponies to a poor old woman whose only b