oo. The white man is not any
braver than the red man, often he is not as brave, and he is not as
cunning, but when the Indian's stomach is full his head goes to sleep.
While the plains are covered with the buffalo in the summer, sometimes
our people starve to death in the winter."

"I suppose, doctor," said Will, "that one can't have everything. If he
is anxious about the future he can't enjoy the present."

The old Sioux shook his head and remained dissatisfied.

"The buffalo is our life," he said, "or, at least, the life of the Sioux
tribes that ride the Great Plains. Manitou sends the buffalo to us.
Buffaloes, in numbers past all human counting, are born by the will of
Manitou under the ground and in the winter. When the spring winds begin
to blow they come from beneath the earth through great caves and they
begin their march northward. If the Sioux and the other Indian nations
were to displease Manitou he might not send the buffalo herds out
through the great caves, and then we should perish."

Will afterward discovered that this was a common belief among the
Indians of the plains. Some old men claimed to have seen these caves far
down in Texas, and it was quite common for the ancients of the tribes to
aver that their fathers or grandfathers had seen them. Most of them
held, too, to the consoling belief that however great the slaughter of
buffaloes by white man and red, Manitou would continue to send them in
such vast numbers that the supply could never be exhausted, although a
few such as Inmutanka had a fear to the contrary.

Inmutanka, as became his nature, was provident. The lodge that he and
Will inhabited was well stored with pemmican, with nuts and a good store
of shelled corn. It also held many dried herbs and to Will's eyes, now
long unused to civilization, it was a comfortable and cheerful place. A
fire was nearly always kept burning in the centre, and he managed to
improve the little vent and wind vane at the top in such a manner that
the smoke was carried off well, and his eyes did not suffer from it.

Then a fierce, cold rain came, blown by bitter winds and stripping the
last leaf from the trees. At Will's own suggestion, vast brush shelters
had been thrown up near the slopes. Crude and partial though they were,
they gave the great pony herd much protection, and when old Xingudan
inspected them carefully he looked at Will and said briefly: "It is
good."

Will felt that he had taken another step i