take the place of Falling Water. He has searched his heart
for his answer. His thoughts have been long; but he has reached the
end of them. They have been deep; but he has seen through them as
through clear water. He has decided. His medicine has told him that
it is not for Little Cayuse to be the chief of the Crow nation. He is
not a Crow Indian. He is not of their blood. His medicine is not
their medicine, or his totem their totem. He is a stranger among them.
As a stranger he came. As a stranger he will go away. I have spoken."

Then slowly he removed his war bonnet, put aside his staff, and began
to untie the thongs of his doeskin shirt.

"Ah!" cried Simon Sprott, stepping forward, and speaking in English.
"I guessed it would be that way. But hold hard. Don't take off your
robes. They're yours, and you're still a chief. There's no going back
on it. You've been elected. Naturally you don't feel like living the
rest of your days amongst a tribe of Redskins. I don't wonder at it.
There's a way out, however. The Crows are disappointed. Their hearts
'll be heavy for many a long day. But they'll understand. And if you
don't see your way to doing what they want, you'll at least consent to
being what you might call an honorary chief. Eh? How'll that suit?"

Kiddie willingly agreed to this arrangement, and accordingly he again
wore the feathered head-dress and duly acted his part in the ceremonies
connected with his initiation.

CHAPTER XX

FOUL PLAY

"Now, as you're here, Kiddie, an' we're all so comfortable, an' so
interested in all you've got ter tell us 'bout this yer campin' trip,
what d'yer say ter stoppin' the night along of us?"

Kiddie looked across at Gideon Birkenshaw.

"Dunno, Gid," he answered lightly. "Only I was hankerin' to go down
an' have a look at the cabin."

"Cabin's all right," objected Gideon. "Cabin won't run away. What's
the good of goin' down thar, a cold dark night like this? Better by
far wait till mornin', an' see it by daylight. Rooms haven't bin
dusted, beds haven't bin aired, fires ain't lighted. Supper 'll be
ready soon, an', say, thar's a great pile o' letters lyin' waitin' for
you on the window ledge back of you."

Kiddie turned and glanced at the formidable pile, but he did not move
to open any of the letters.

"Oh, all right, Gid," he said, flinging a leg over the arm of the
easy-chair in which he was sitting. "I'll stay. Of course I'll