chatanskah made good his promise as soon as the tribe had secured the spoils of the hunt. he collected a little band of picked warriors, presented us with powder and lead captured from the chippewa to replenish the reserve stock corlaer carried in a great ox-horn and leather pouch, and we said good-by to the huddle of teepees, now surrounded by high-built racks of jerking meat and pegged-out hides in process of tanning. the last breath of summer had left the air, and we were glad of the buffalo-skin robes the wahpeton gave us. but there was advantage, too, in the keen zest of the lower temperature, for it inspired us to greater exertions, and we traveled at a rate we could not have attained during the hot months.

our course lay up the valley of the missouri in a north-westerly direction, more truly north than west, as i discovered. we journeyed so for many days, encountering frequently bands of the other dakota council fires, mdewakanton, wahpekute, sisseton, yankton and yanktonai. once a raiding band of arikara, savage warriors, with buffalo horns woven into their long hair instead of feathers, and wolf-skin breechclouts, swooped down upon us from the north. but they were looking for an undefended village to yield them the buffalo-meat they had been denied by some perverse trick of fate, and they sheered off at the discharge of our muskets, carrying their dead with them.

each night we expected to awake to find the ground covered with snow, for the winter usually develops earlier in these western lands than on the seacoast; but providence aided us, and at the end of two weeks we met a wandering band of yanktonai, who told us the teton bands had crossed the missouri and followed westward another river bordered by sandhills,* which entered the missouri a day's march ahead of us. these yanktonai were the first horse indians we saw. they were of leaner build than the eastern dakota, with keen, predatory faces and a harsher speech, matchless riders. their mounts, which they stole from the southern tribes—who in turn stole from the spaniards—or bred from stolen stock, were small, clean-limbed beasts, bespeaking the arab strain the spaniards favor. their arms were the lance in place of the tomahawk, and bow and arrow, and they carried also a small, round shield of the thick, rugged neck-hide of the buffalo.

*i think ormerod refers to the platte. from here on, his account of his wanderings increases in vagueness, owing to lack of established place names.—a.d.h.s.

chatanskah was much concerned at the news that the teton had moved farther west, for he knew that his return journey to his own villages would probably be delayed by snow; but when we offered to relieve him of his pledge he scouted the idea and insisted upon accompanying us as he had promised. and to say truth, as we penetrated deeper into this land of incredible distances and unknown peoples, we appreciated as we had not before the advantage of his knowledge and protection. the horse indians, as we were to learn at first-hand, were natural thieves, who stole for the love of thieving and whose hands were instinctively raised against all men. to them, likewise, the name of the long house, which had reached even the wahpeton, was all but meaningless. i am sure the yanktonai band would have murdered us cheerfully, if it had not been for chatanskah's escort.

we easily identified the river they had described to us by its size and the white shimmer of the sandhills along the bank. luckily for us the missouri was low, and it was a task of no difficulty to ford and swim its bed at a point just above the other river's mouth. but the water was bitter cold, and we were glad to build two roaring fires and broil ourselves between walls of flame.

the next day, and for another two weeks, we continued up the valley of this river, having, to our no small discomfort, to pass over many tributaries large and small. but the weather continued clear, without a trace of moisture or snow. the country, it seemed to me, sloped upward slowly, as though climbing toward the huge mountains, which the indians said were the final bar to the world they knew. we saw no people, but we passed a number of deserted village-sites, which chatanskah asserted to represent the course taken by the teton in their westward journey, probably in search of better grazing conditions for their horse herds.

indeed, this proved to be the case. our first glimpse of a man after we parted from the yanktonai came as we surmounted a hill that shouldered abruptly above the level of the savannahs. as noiseless as a figure in a dream, a boy of adolescent age rode over its summit and peered down at us with startled eyes. a yelp rose from his lips, and he heeled his mount up and down in confused fashion as if not knowing which way to turn, then, shaking his fist defiantly in our direction, galloped off down the opposite slope.

"the teton keep good watch," i commented. "but why did the boy wait to run?"

"he was signaling," explained tawannears. "when we reach the hill-top you will see what he has accomplished."

from the brow of the hill we looked down upon a broad stretch of level grass-land. midway of it hundreds of teepees clustered in concentric circles, with an opening to the east. smoke curled up between the lodge-poles, and men, women and children swarmed the streets, all staring up at us. a body of warriors were running from the village toward the river, where several thousand horses were being rounded up by the boy herd-guards, whose shrill cries came faintly to our ears; and whilst we were still a considerable distance away the herd was in motion toward the village, and an imposing troop of warriors galloped to meet us, the sunlight glinting on feather head-dresses and lance-points and the bright beadwork of sheaths and quivers.

"hai!" exclaimed chatanskah. "the teton have their eyes open. they do well to watch from the hill-top, but if i were choosing a place to pitch my people's teepees i would not put them under a hill which i could not see through in the night. however, i suppose they must have protection for their sunka wakan* from the cold north winds. and here beneath the hill they have fine grazing grounds and water for the taking."

* mysterious dogs—indian name for horses.

at his advice we halted at the foot of the hill to await the coming of the horsemen, who stormed up as though they would ride us down. but a little, shriveled-up old man who rode in advance, flung out one hand with a single word of command, and they yanked their horses to an abrupt halt, scattering the sods right and left and flowing around us in a circle that barred all chance of retreat.

"hao," said chatanskah calmly. "have the teton left the council of the seven fires? does nadoweiswe** forget the face of chatanskah?"

** the adder.

the little, shriveled-up chief eyed us grimly from the back of the big horse he bestrode. he had much of the look of an adder, beady, bright eyes, and a trick of thrusting out his tongue when he talked to lick around his lips. he spoke with a hissing sing-song accent because of the loss of several front teeth. and he was sudden in his actions, and his warriors plainly feared him, although any one of them could have tucked him under one arm.

"hao," he answered. "why did not chatanskah send one in advance to tell nadoweiswe he was coming?"

"chatanskah knew not where the teton were camped," retorted the wahpeton chief. "this is a strange country for my warriors. are the wahpeton welcome or must they go back and tell their brothers the teton no longer honor the seven fires?"

nadoweiswe made an impatient gesture with his hand.

"chatanskah talks like a child. he comes suddenly, without warning, and is surprised because we do not expect him. the wahpeton and the teton are brothers. but the teton are not brothers to the mazzonka i see with you."

"what enmity has nadoweiswe for the mazzonka?" asked chatanskah in surprise. "there are none in his country."

"there was one a few sleeps ago," replied the teton with savage emphasis. "he turned the hearts of my young men to water, so that they allowed the siksika* to run off twenty hands** of horses the next night."

* blackfeet.

** one hundred.

he turned in his saddle, and scowled at his warriors, and the fear that showed in every eye was amusing.

"cowardly squaws!" he snorted. "they were afraid to leave their teepees. the white man had watered their hearts with his medicine."

and now he transferred his scowl to corlaer and me.

"that is why we will have nothing to do with any white men," he concluded. "they may be friends of the one who bewitched my young men."

tawannears spoke up, his ringing, musical voice in strange contrast to the rasping tones of the old chief.

"i am tawannears, war chief of the people of the long house," he began.

nadoweiswe looked at him with some astonishment.

"hai," he said, "you are a long way from your lodge, young warrior."

"many more moons' journey than my people have ever traveled," admitted tawannears. "it is my post to guard the western door of the long house. tawannears has honor in his own country."

"that may be," returned the adder ungraciously. "here you are unknown."

"and tawannears is also known in his country as the friend of the white men," continued tawannears. "he is the friend of these white men here. they came with him to aid him in a search. they are his brothers."

"if they are friends of the mazzonka who bewitched my young men they shall go away from here," snapped nadoweiswe, "or i will take their scalps for my new medicine lance."

"what was this white man like?" inquired tawannears.

"he was tall, and he wore a long black robe that reached his moccasins. my young men found him on the prairie, and they galloped up to take him captive. but he drew a weapon from his belt and shook it at them, and a great fear possessed them. there was strong medicine in that weapon. it did not make a loud noise like that." he pointed to my pun. "nor did he strike with it. he did no more than hold it toward them, calling something the while in a loud voice, and their hearts turned to water, and they fled."

"what was the appearance of the weapon?" pressed tawannears.

the adder crossed two fingers, and tawannears laughed, repeating the conversation to us.

"it was black robe!" i exclaimed.

"ja," assented corlaer.

tawannears turned back to the teton chief, whose eyes had never left our faces during this interval.

"yes, nadoweiswe," he said, "tawannears and his white friends know the white man you speak of. he is our enemy."

"hai," cried the adder, "is it him you seek!"

"no," denied tawannears, "we cannot lift finger against him, for the great spirit has set his seal upon him."

a look of comprehension dawned in the adder's face. he nodded his head wisely.

"that was it," he said. "the great spirit punished my young men for threatening one he had set aside. i have known it to happen. hai, it was unfortunate! but perhaps we can make it up. chatanskah, you and your friends are welcome. there are seats in my teepee awaiting you. come, and tell us of your wanderings; for soon it will be winter, and we shall have nothing to do save sit around the fire and talk of what has been."

and i am bound to say the old rascal entertained us with savage courtesy during our progress to the village. we asked him for additional details about black robe, but all he could tell us was that the jesuit had been seen south of the river the one time. whence he came or where he was going, the teton could not say.

a quarter-mile short of the teepees we were held up by the retrograde movement of the horse-herd, which was being shifted back to the grazing grounds along the river. the young lads who handled it worked with consummate skill, yet with the peculiarly cruel tactics which the indians seem always to practice. they had driven the horses out of the village circle, and were turning them south when a diversion was created by a splendid stallion with a mottled brown and white coat, that had eluded all attempts to maneuver him into the ranks of the herd. finally one of the youngsters raced up beside him and quirted him heavily over the flanks with a rawhide whip.

the stallion screamed with rage, swung around on his hind-legs and lashed out with fore-hoofs and snapping teeth. he missed the boy, but laid open the ribs of the other horse, that naturally took fright, unseated its rider and made off. for a moment the mottled stallion stood motionless, panting, nostrils expanded, eyes wide. then he danced after the fleeing boy, heels flirting, teeth bared.

nadoweiswe and his warriors paused to see what would happen next. none of them seemed anxious to interfere, and the love of horses that has been in my blood ever since the boyhood i spent in the dorset countryside gripped hold of me. i handed my musket to tawannears and started toward the stallion.

there was a thrill of interest in the group of teton, and nadoweiswe called after me.

"the teton says to stay here," translated tawannears. "he says sunka-wakan-kedeshka* has never been backed."

* spotted horse.

but that was just the push i needed to send me on. the instant my eyes had lighted upon that herd of glorious, half-tamed beasts my thighs had itched to clasp horse-flesh again, and the idea that the stallion was unbroken was the definite lure. one gift i confess to pride in is my knack with horses. it comes naturally to me, and at home in england and afterward in france, i had frequent occasion to learn the fine points of the ménage. moreover, i was fairly sure from what little i had seen of the horse indians up to this time that their only theory of horse-taming was horse-breaking. they knew nothing of the arts of conciliation by which the most high-strung animals can be mastered—arts which i had learned from many a gypsy farrier to supplement the natural ability that was born in me. i suspected that in the case of this stallion they had found it impossible to do anything with him short of killing him.

i kept on, emitting a shrill whistle, which, as i anticipated, switched the stallion's attention from the indian boy to myself. he hesitated, looked from one to the other of us—and gave the boy time to catch his own badly-scared mount. that was enough for the stallion. he was after some human on two legs, and he cantered up to me, eyes wickedly distended, lips drawn back. i simply folded my arms, and waited until he was within ear-shot before i spoke to him in a gentle, soothing tone, taking care to reveal no trace of fear or uneasiness. i suppose he had never heard a kind word from a man. it would have been contrary to the practice of his masters. so he was bewildered, and he slowed up involuntarily, and sidled around me.

i made no attempt to catch him, and his curiosity increasing, he circled me and peered into my face, careful to keep beyond reach, for he was now more afraid of me than vicious. i was a new experience. an indian was something that he knew would lash him or kick him or stick a lance into him. he didn't know what i would do. so i talked to him some more, using the few dakota words i had picked up, but aiming more to influence him by the tone of my voice and my eyes. and gradually i succeeded. he came closer. he pushed his velvet muzzle into my face, whinnying as ingratiatingly as though i were a young mare. but i affected not to notice him, and talked on.

when i threw one arm around his lowered neck, his eyes widened, but he did not bare his teeth or draw back. when i twisted one hand in his mane he shivered slightly, but stood still. i talked to him a while longer, and he quieted down. then i patted his broad back, and vaulted upon it, leaned forward quickly and whispered again in his high-cocked ear. he hesitated, i pressed his flanks with my knees, jerked his mane, and he headed toward the herd.

fifty feet from the nearest of his kind i slid from his back, and slapped him smartly on the rump. he turned his head, gave me a reproachful glance and cantered quietly up to a group of mares, taking his place as if by right among them. but as i walked away he flung up his head once and sent after me a prolonged whinny of farewell, surely as close to a human good-by as a beast could manage.

nadoweiswe, with chatanskah and tawannears, rode out from the array of warriors to meet me.

"the adder says," tawannears hailed me, "that he would like to have you sit at his right-hand in his teepee. he does not know how good a warrior you are—" the seneca's teeth showed in a smile—"but he is sure you would make a great horse-stealer."

i laughed.

"what did you tell the adder?" i asked.

"i told him this was a feat i had never seen you perform before, and i did not think that you would consent."

nadoweiswe leaned down from his horse, and spoke rapidly again.

"he says," tawannears translated, "that he wishes to recover his horses the blackfeet stole, but that with you to aid him he would likewise go south and raid the pastures of the apache and the comanche."

"tell him," i answered, "to have his warriors remember that a horse does not have to be beaten to be mastered. as for the blackfeet, tell him in my country they teach their warriors to stampede an enemy's horses by firing the grass behind them."

nadoweiswe listened to this advice with a look of intense admiration.

"he says," tawannears gave me his reply, "that you must be much wiser than you look. he is amazed at you. he will do what you say."

and it is a fact that during our short stay with the teton they honored me as their principal guest, not because i was a warrior, or because i had displayed skill in diplomacy such as many tribes admire, or because i was an orator. no, the quality which they considered admirable was my god-given talent for horse-stealing.