o be done.

There had been all along an abundance of firewood, of fallen trees and
dead mesquite-bushes, in the neighborhood of the camp, and there were
fires burning in front of several lodges before the remainder of the
good news came in. The cow had been thoroughly cut up, but the stern
requirements of Indian law in such cases called for the presence of the
chief and the leading warriors to divide and give out for use. Anything
like theft or overreaching would have been visited with the sharp wrath
of some very hungry men. The Big Tongue had seated himself in front of
the "hump" and some other choice morsels, waiting the expected decision
that they belonged to him. He also explained to all who could not help
hearing him how surely that cow could have broken through the camp and
escaped into the mountains if it had not been for him, until the same
plump squaw pointed at the hump and ribs before him, remarking,
cheerfully,

"Go get arrow. Kill him again. Need some more. Boy kill him when he
stood up."

There was not strength left in the camp for a laugh, but the Big Tongue
seemed to have wearied of the conversation. He looked wearier afterwards
when the hump was unanimously assigned to the old chief's own lodge,
that Two Arrows might eat his share of it. Indian justice is a pretty
fair article when it can be had at home, not interfered with by any kind
of white man. The division was made to the entire satisfaction of
everybody, after all, for the Big Tongue deserved and was awarded due
credit and pay for his promptness. If the buffalo had not already been
killed by somebody else, perhaps he might have killed it, and there was
a good deal in that. He and his family had a very much encouraged and
cheerful set of brown faces as they gathered around their fire and began
to broil bits of meat over it.

One fashion was absolutely without an exception, leaving out of the
question the smaller pappooses: not one man, woman, or child but was
diligently working away at a slice of raw meat, whatever else they were
doing or trying to do. It was no time to wait for cookery, and it was
wonderful what an enlivening effect the raw meat seemed to have.

Indian etiquette required that Two Arrows should sit down before his
father's lodge and patiently wait until his "token" should be given him.
His first slice of meat was duly broiled by his mother, and handed him
by his father, and he ate it in dignified silence. It was the proudest