in and Wabeda followed me with two short rib bones in his mouth.
Apparently he did not care to risk those delicacies.

"There," exclaimed Uncheedah, "you still insist upon bringing in some
sort of bone!" but I begged her to let him gnaw them inside because it
was so cold. Having been granted this privilege, he settled himself at
my back and I became absorbed in some specially nice arrows that uncle
was making.

"O, uncle, you must put on three feathers to all of them so that they
can fly straight," I suggested.

"Yes, but if there are only two feathers, they will fly faster," he
answered.

"Woow!" Wabeda uttered his suspicions.

"Woow!" he said again, and rushed for the entrance of the teepee. He
kicked me over as he went and scattered the burning embers.

"En na he na!" Uncheedah exclaimed, but he was already outside.

"Wow, wow, wow! Wow, Wow, wow!"

A deep guttural voice answered him.

Out I rushed with my bow and arrows in my hand.

"Come, uncle, come! A big cinnamon bear!" I shouted as I emerged from
the teepee.

Uncle sprang out and in a moment he had sent a swift arrow through the
bear's heart. The animal fell dead. He had just begun to dig up Wabeda's
bone, when the dog's quick ear had heard the sound.

"Ah, uncle, Wabeda and I ought to have at least a little eaglet's
feather for this. I too sent my small arrow into the bear before he
fell," I exclaimed. "But I thought all bears ought to be in their lodges
in the winter time. What was this one doing at this time of the year and
night?"

"Well," said my uncle, "I will tell you. Among the tribes, some are
naturally lazy. The cinnamon bear is the lazy one of his tribe. He alone
sleeps out of doors in the winter and because he has not a warm bed, he
is soon hungry. Sometimes he lives in the hollow trunk of a tree, where
he has made a bed of dry grass; but when the night is very cold, like
to-night, he has to move about to keep himself from freezing and as he
prowls around, he gets hungry."

We dragged the huge carcass within our lodge. "O, what nice claws he
has, uncle!" I exclaimed eagerly. "Can I have them for my necklace?"

"It is only the old medicine men who wear them regularly. The son of
a great warrior who has killed a grizzly may wear them upon a public
occasion," he explained.

"And you are just like my father and are considered the best hunter
among the Santees and Sissetons. You have killed many grizzlies so that
no one can object t