e they worked with remarkable
zeal, and a band of living light surrounded the entire corral. Other
lights blazed at points about the village, as they intended to make
everything safe.

Will was chief of the watch, until about three o'clock in the morning.
Often he went among the ponies and soothed them with voice and touch,
for they were generally restless. Out of the darkness, well beyond the
light of the flames, came growls and the noises of fierce combat. They
had skinned all the bears, and also had taken away all the eatable
portions of their bodies, but other beasts had come for what was left.
The Indians distinguished the voices of bear, mountain lion and wolf.
From the slopes also came fierce whines, and the old squaws, shuddering,
built the fires yet higher.

"Son of Inmutanka," said Xingudan at last to Will, "go to your lodge and
sleep. You have proved anew that you are a man and worthy to belong to
the great Dakota nation. The fires will be kept burning all through the
night and see you, Inmutanka, that no one awakens him. Let his sleep go
of its own accord to its full measure."

A year earlier Will would have been so much excited that sleep would
have been impossible to him, but the primitive life he was leading had
hardened all his nerves so thoroughly that he slumbered at once between
the buffalo robes.

Old Inmutanka did not awaken him when the dawn came, although most of
the people were already at work, curing the meat of the bears and
scraping and drying the huge hides. They were also putting more brush
and stakes around the great corral for the ponies, and many were already
saying it was Waditaka who had saved their horses for them the night
before. But the day had all the intense cold of extreme winter in the
great mountains of North America. The mercury was a full forty degrees
below zero, and the Indians who worked with the spoils had only chin,
eyes and mouth exposed. Among them came old Inmutanka, very erect and
strong despite his years, and full of honest pride. He thumped himself
twice upon the chest, and then said in a loud, clear voice:

"Does anyone here wish to question the merit of my son, Waditaka? Is he
not as brave as the bravest, and does he not think further ahead than
any other warrior in the village?"

Then up spoke old Xingudan and he was sincere.

"Your words are as true as if they had been spoken by Manitou himself,"
he said. "The youth, Waditaka, the son of Inmutanka, was