that kind of thing, for he goes on in a sort of
continual vibration from feast to famine.

All the other boys in camp were as hungry as Two Arrows, and as their
hunger went down their envy of him went up; he had suddenly stepped
ahead of them and had become an older boy in a moment. It was very much
as if a boy of his age in the "settlements" had waked up, some fine
morning, with a pair of mustaches and a military title, uniform and all.

Two Arrows was entitled to strut a little, and so was One-eye, but for
some reason neither of them was inclined to anything but eating and
lying down. One-eye may have felt lonely, for he found himself the only
dog in all that camp, and he knew very well what had become of the dogs
he used to know: they had gone to the famine, and there had been no
sort of funeral ceremonies, and now there could be no kind of neighborly
quarrel over bones any more. There was a reason, why One-eye should
attach himself more closely than ever to his master and follow his every
movement. They had killed two buffaloes in company, and there was no
telling what they might or might not yet do if they kept together.

Two Arrows found the effects of his long fasting rapidly passing away,
but he was like everybody else and needed a big sleep. One-eye had the
only eye that did any watching all that night, and nobody but the fat
squaw was up very early next morning. Her next company was the Big
Tongue, and he at once began to talk about the game he intended to kill,
now he had had something to eat. Two Arrows might not have been the next
riser if it had not been for a friendly tug from One-eye, but the moment
he was awake he knew that he was hungry again. He was hungry, but he was
silent, and it was plain that he was thinking about something uncommonly
interesting. He stood in front of his father's lodge, waiting for the
breakfast that was now sure to come, when a light hand was laid upon his
arm and a soft musical voice exclaimed, triumphantly,

"Two Arrows! Name!"

"Ugh," said he. "Na-tee-kah."

He hardly looked around, but the pleasantest face in all that band was
smiling upon him. It bore a strong resemblance to his own, and belonged
to an Indian girl a year or so younger than himself. She was well grown,
slender, and graceful, and had a pair of eyes as brilliant as his, but a
great deal more gentle and kindly in their expression. They lacked the
restless, searching, eager look, and his, indeed were quie