d to himself and Inmutanka, and
that the best of the food would always be theirs if they were willing to
take it.

The most difficult of their tasks was to procure enough food for the
ponies, and they were continually turning up the snow in secluded
alcoves in search of it. Once the weather moderated considerably for a
week, and the snow melting in vast volume freshened all the grass and
foliage. Heavy and continuous rains for several days renewed much
vegetation, apparently dead in this secluded valley, and the ponies,
which were permitted to graze freely in the course of the day, although
they were driven back to the corral at night, regained much of their
lost flesh. The Indians also used this interval to gather and store much
forage for them.

With the cessation of the rain however, the fierce cold returned.
Everything froze up tight and fast again, and once more at night they
heard the fierce howlings of the wild beasts. The fires around the
corral were renewed and were never permitted to die, and it was
necessary also to keep them burning continually about the village. A
wolf stole in between the lodges, killed and carried off a little child.
He was trailed by Will, Roka, now his fast friend, and a young warrior
named Pehansan, the Crane, because of his extreme height and thinness.
But Pehansan's figure, despite its slenderness, was so tough that he
seemed able to endure anything, and on this expedition he was the
leader. They tracked the wolf up the mountain side, slew it with arrows
and recovered the body of the child, to which they gave proper burial,
thus making sure of the immortality of its soul.

The danger from the wild beasts remained. It was the theory of the old
and wise Xingudan that the pony herd drew them. The fierce winter made
the hunting bad, but the word had been passed on by wolves, mountain
lions and bears that a certain valley was filled with fine, toothsome
horses, little able to protect themselves, and all of the fierce
meat-eaters were coming to claim their share.

"We shall have to fight them until the spring," said the wise old chief,
"and since we have neither cartridges nor powder and lead, we must make
hundreds and hundreds of arrows."

This was hard and tedious labor, but nearly all in the village, who were
able, devoted most of their time to it. They used various kinds of
wood, scraping the shafts until they were perfectly round, and making on
every one three fine grooves which