gruffly.

Cameron pulled out his tobacco pouch and passed it to the Chief. With an
air of indescribable condescension Crowfoot took the pouch, knocked the
ashes from his pipe, filled it from the pouch and handed it back to the
owner.

"Boy smoke?" inquired Cameron, holding out the pouch toward the youth.

"Huh!" grunted Crowfoot with a slight relaxing of his face. "Not
yet--too small."

The lad stood like a statue, and, except for a slight stiffening of
his tall lithe figure, remained absolutely motionless, after the Indian
manner. For some time they smoked in silence.

"Getting cold," said Cameron at length, as he kicked the embers of the
fire together.

Crowfoot spoke to his son and the lad piled wood on the fire till it
blazed high, then, at a sign from his father, he disappeared into the
tent.

"Ha! That is better," said Cameron, stretching out his hands toward the
fire and disposing himself so that the old Chief's face should be set
clearly in its light.

"The Police ride hard these days?" said Crowfoot in his own language,
after a long silence.

"Oh, sometimes," replied Cameron carelessly, "when cattle-thieves ride
too."

"Huh?" inquired Crowfoot innocently.

"Yes, some Indians forget all that the Police have done for them,
and like coyotes steal upon the cattle at night and drive them over
cut-banks."

"Huh?" inquired Crowfoot again, apparently much interested.

"Yes," continued Cameron, fully aware that he was giving the old Chief
no news, "Eagle Feather will be much wiser when he rides over the plains
again."

"Huh!" ejaculated the Chief in agreement.

"But Eagle Feather," continued Cameron, "is not the worst Indian. He is
no good, only a little boy who does what he is told."

"Huh?" inquired Crowfoot with childlike simplicity.

"Yes, he is an old squaw serving his Chief."

"Huh?" again inquired Crowfoot, moving his pipe from his mouth in his
apparent anxiety to learn the name of this unknown master of Eagle
Feather.

"Onawata, the Sioux, is a great Chief," said Cameron.

Crowfoot grunted his indifference.

"He makes all the little Chiefs, Blood, Piegan, Sarcee, Blackfeet obey
him," said Cameron in a scornful voice, shading his face from the fire
with his hand.

This time Crowfoot made no reply.

"But he has left this country for a while?" continued Cameron.

Crowfoot grunted acquiescence.

"My brother has not seen this Sioux for some weeks?" Again Cameron's
hand shaded his