rolled in great beads from their shining bodies, and their breath came in
short gasps. It seemed as though Rene's friend must give in, when,
presto! down went Chitta again; while Has-se stood erect, a proud smile
on his face, winner of the games, and Bow-bearer to his father for a year.

Has-se had still to undergo one more test of endurance before he could
call himself a warrior, which he must be able to do ere he could assume
the duties of Bow-bearer. He must pass through the ordeal of the
Cassine, or black drink. This was a concoction prepared by the
medicine-men, of roots and leaves, from a recipe the secret of which was
most jealously guarded by them; and to drink of it was to subject one's
self to the most agonizing pains, which, however, were but of short
duration. In spite of his sufferings, the youth who drank from the
horrid bowl was expected to preserve a smiling face, nor admit by word or
sign that he was undergoing aught but the most pleasing sensations. If
he failed in this one thing, no matter what record he had previously
gained for courage or daring, he was ever afterwards condemned to share
the work of women, nor might he ever again bear arms or take part in the
chase or in war.

Immediately after his overthrow of Chitta, and while the shouts of joy
over his victory were still ringing in his ears, Has-se was led to an
elevated seat, where he could be seen of all the people, and a bowl of
the awful mixture was handed him. Without hesitation, and with a proud
glance around him, the brave youth swallowed the nauseous draught, and
then folding his arms, gazed with a smiling face upon the assembled
multitude. For fifteen minutes he sat there amid a death-like silence,
calm and unmoved, though the great beads of perspiration rolling from his
forehead showed what he was enduring. At the end of that time a great
shout from the people told him that his ordeal was over; and, weak and
faint, he was led away to a place where he might recover in quiet from
the effects of his terrible sufferings, and enjoy in peace the first
glorious thoughts that now he was indeed a Bow-bearer and a warrior.

Rene sprang forward from his seat to seize and shake his friend's hand,
while from all, Indians as well as whites, arose shouts of joy at the
victory of the brave and much-loved lad who wore the Flamingo Feather.

As the angry Chitta turned away from the scene of his defeat, his heart
was filled with rage at these sh