reat war chief, Red Cloud, himself. Will was
not only by formal rite of adoption a Sioux, but in the present crisis
he was, on the whole, the most valuable young warrior in a village where
young warriors were so scarce, owing to the distant war with the whites.

"You have delivered your message, Roka," said Xingudan, finally, "and
you have no right to deliver it to anybody but me. Therefore your duty
is done. Do not mention it again while you are with us."

"I obey, O Xingudan," said Roka. "Here I am under your command, and now
I will exert all my energies to get well of my wound."

Will, meanwhile, relapsed farther and farther into the primitive, all
the conditions of extreme wildness exerting upon him a powerful
influence. They no longer had bullets and gunpowder or cartridges, but
must fight with bow and arrow, lance and war club. It was necessary,
too, to defend themselves, as the tremendous cold was driving into the
valley more beasts of prey, ravening with hunger.

And yet the primitive state of the youth and those around him was not
ignoble. Just as the people of a village twenty thousand years before
may have been drawn together by common dangers and the needs of mutual
help, so were these. The women worked diligently on the wolf skins,
making heavier and warmer clothing, the food supply was placed under the
dictatorship of Xingudan, who saw that nothing was wasted. Will, with
the superior foresight of the white man's brain, was really at the back
of this measure.

To the most active and vigorous men was assigned the task of hunting the
great wild beasts which now wandered into the valley, driven by cold and
fierce, growing hunger.

The wolves were but the forerunners. Mountain lions of uncommon size and
ferocity appeared. An old woman was struck down in the night and
devoured, and in broad daylight a child standing at the brink of the
river was killed and carried away. Then the grizzly bears or other
bears, huge beyond any that they had ever seen before, appeared. A group
came in the night and attacked the pony herd, slaying and partly
devouring at least a dozen. All in the village were awakened by the
stamping of the horses and in the bitter cold and darkness the brave
children of the wild rushed to the rescue, the women snatching torches
and hurrying with them to furnish light by which their men could fight.

The battle that ensued was fully as terrible as that with the wolves.
The bears, although far