John Ermine of the Yellowstone

round the barrel of a horse. He no longer had to climb up the fore leg of a camp-pony, b

lodges. You are old enough now to wear the loin-cloth; you must begin to be a man. You will never find your shadow-self here among the noisy lodges; it will only come to you out in the quiet of the hills. The Bad Spirits always have their arms out to clutch you when you are asleep in the night; as you ride in the shadows; when you ford the waters,-they come in the wind, the rain, the snow; they point the bullet and the battle-axe to your breast, and th

his brain. He was to begin to be a man. Already he had done in play, about the camp, the things which the warriors did among the thundering buffalo herds; he had imitated the fierce nervous effort to take the enem

l strangle which followed opposition. With ears forward, the animal watched the naked youth, as he slowly approached him along the taut rope, saying softly; "Eh-ah-h-h-um-m-m-um-m-m-eh-h-h-h-h." Tying the rope on the horse's jaw, with a soft spring he fixed himself on its ba

y words could to White Weasel: "I, the sun, will make the grass yellow as a new brass kettle from the traders. I will make

tely with all things in nature; everything has life; everything has to do w

carrion, and other nameless evils of men behind them, unti

white boy, with his vermilioned skin, and long, braided hair, one would expect to hear the craunch and grind of a proce

lo, and, above all, the antelope. These any one can understand. We must not let the ponies go near the broken land or the trees. The ponies themselves are fools, yet, if you will watch them, you will see them turn slowly away from an enemy, and often looking back, pointing with their ears. It may be only a bear which they

okes were often hungry out in the hills. The Dakotah were worse than the hunger, and to lose the ponies meant hunger in their father's lodge. This shadow-day herding was like good dreams; wait until the hail beat on the ponies' backs, and made them run before it; wait until the warriors fought about the camp, defending it; then it was hard work

es. If the mounted scouts came scurrying along the land, with the white dust in a long trail behind them, he headed for the cottonwoods with the herd, galloping. At times the number of the ponies

eel good. He was beginning to be a man, and he was proud of it; he would be a warr

g Weasel's skin was blue and bloodless under his buffalo-robe when he started out for the hills, where the wind had swept the snow off from the

the ponies out to good grazing, and then left him. The Absaroke had been sore pressed by the Indians out on the plains, and had retired to the Chew-cara-ash-Nitishic[3] country, where the salt-weed grew. Here they could be

er they crawled slowly down their sides. Weasel noticed this as he sat shivering in his buffalo-robe; also he noticed far away other horse herds moving slowly toward the Arsha-Nitishic, along whose waters lay th

d, and all followed the buffalo herds together. A lame or loose pony or a crippled Indian often went the way of the wolves, a

dozens, but not so many as these. They were coming in nearer to the horses-they were losing their fear. The horses were

l could have veered off and out of the chase. He thought of this, but his blue eyes opened bravely and he rode along. A young colt, having lost its mo

f them. What had been a line of rushing horses two arrow-flights long before, was now a closely packed mass of animals which could have been covered by a lariat. In the middle of the bunch sat Weasel, with his legs drawn up to avo

e of the bunc

heir tails turned toward the circling mass of devil-animals, they struck and lashed when attacked. Nothing was heard but the snap of teeth, the stamp of hooves, the shrill squealing of horses, with an occas

uddled in the dense bush; the dogs came out and barked at the wilderness of never ending plain. All was warmth and light, friendship,

onies?" asked the foster-father of his

d stood long squinting across the dusky land. He saw nothing to e

ong walk failed to locate the horses. Then he

is horses have not come in,"

he Sioux!" sp

scouts made their way to the outposts. The warriors loaded their guns, and the women put out the fires. Every dog howled with all the energy of his emotional nature.

outside, speculating endlessly with his friends. Long before day he was mounted, and w

, with the wolves scurrying away on all sides. A faint answering human whoop came from the body of the beleaguered horse band. As the rescuers rode up, the ponies spread out from each other. Relieved from the pressure of the slimy fangs, the poor animals knew that men were better than wolves. Some of them were torn and bloody about the flanks; a few lay still on the snow with their tendons cut; but best of all which the

ide him, and the old men marvelled and talked. It was the time when the gray wolves changed their hunting-grounds. Many had seen it before. When they so

in the mountains had driven them out. The horse herds must be well looke

t had left. Little Weasel spoke weakly to his father: "The Great Spirit came to me in the night, father,-the cold wind whispered to me that White Weasel must always carry a hoof of the white

was, at best, useless suffering,-sacrificed to the gods of men, whom he dreaded less