John Ermine of the Yellowstone

non cracking a dead branch as they stepped over fallen timber, or grunting under the strain of steep hillsides. Far across the wide valley the

oft and golden, painting everything with her quiet, restful color

few steps ahead, it melted into a protecting gloom within an arrow's-flight. An unfortunate meeting with the enemy would develop a horse-race where numbers counted for no more than the swiftest hors

o the antarctic seas. That was how it seemed, not how it was. The fierce savages who skulked through the cuts and seams made by erosion did not show themselves, but they were there and might appear at any moment; the desert brotherhood knew this, and well considered their footsteps. Seated on a rock pinnacle, amid brushwood, one man slept while the other watched. Long before nightfall they

oduce their like again. Her wheels will turn and her chimneys smoke, and the things she makes will be carried round the world in ships, but she never can make

endent of accessories. Their gaunt, hammer-headed, grass-bellied, cat-hammed, roach-backed ponies went with them when they took their departure; the ravens fly high above their intruding successors, and the wolves which sneaked at their friendly heel

eed-French or Chinook; he had sought the camp of the white soldiers and added to his Absaroke sundry "God-damns" and other useful expressions needed in his business. He was a slim fellow with a massive head and a restless soul; a seeker after violence, with wicked little black eyes which glittered through two

his comrade, together with an elk-horn whip. In times past Ermine had owned a hat, but long having outlived the natural life of any hat, it had finally refused to abide with him. In lieu of this he had bound his head with a yellow handkerchief, beside which polished brass would have been a dead and lonely brown. His fine boyish figure swayed like a tule in the wind, to the motions of his pony. His mind was reposeful though he

y sticks. Blowing the tobacco smoke to the four corners of the earth, Wolf-Voice said: "We will be rich, brother, if the Sioux do not get a chance to dry our hair; the soldiers always make their scouts rich; there is plenty to eat in their wagons, and cartridges cost nothing. The soldiers always fight; they are like the gray bears,-they do not know any better,-and then is the time when we must watch close to get away before the Sioux have an advantage of them. They a

framed thoughts wrestled and twisted, lined and rounded, the idea of ten thousand men; yet the idea never took a form which satisfied him. Ten thousand buffalo-yes, he had calculated their mass; he had seen them. Ten thousand tre

their companions. By the Elk[8] River Wolf-Voice pointed to a long, light streak which passed through the sage-brush: "Brother, that is the sign of

pony and picked it up, holding it close to his eyes for a mome

in the moonlight. "I do not know; it is

the passing soldiers. They knew what that was; it was the canteen

They are between us and the white men; you may be sure of that, brother," said on

tom. "Bogardus," he read on the left-hand corner. The image on the card spread, opened, and flowered in Ermine's mind; it was a picture-that was plain now; it was a photograph such as he had heard Crooked-Bear tell about-an image from the sun. He had never seen one before. Wolf-Voice b

long, steady, and hypnotic gaze. The gentle face of the image fascinated the lad; it stirred his imagination and added "a beautiful white woman" to his "ten-thou

er every night, thus cutting their time. Neither did they see any signs of human beings or know where to find the white men; but recourse to the trail along the riv

. Was it buffalo, Indians, or soldiers? The dust stayed all day in one place; it might b

orite pony. When Wolf-Voice's attention was directed elsewhere, he took his medicine, the dried hoof of the white stallion, and rubbed it gently on his pony's heels. The prophet would not approve of this, he felt, but it could

g their range-bred ponies to pick out the footing. Hour aft

word they turned away from the noise. Later Wolf-Voice whispered: "Indians; the white men never let their horses loose in the night. That pony wa

that they were loose horses grazing. By the light of the late moon they made their way more quickly, but always stopping to separate the sounds of the night-the good

un comes up. If we should go near them now, they would fire at us. The white men shoot at a

Sibley tents. They heard the hungry mule chorus, the clank of chains, the monotonous calls of the sentries; and the camp slowly de

e watchers on the sage-brush hillside were preoccupied with the movements of the soldiers. They listened to the trumpets and saw the men answer them by f

x were coming. He saw the lightning play of the ponies' legs, heard the whips crack on their quarters, and was away like a flash, bearing hard on the soldier camp. Before many bounds he recovered from his surprise; it was not far, and his horse was answering the medicine. He had

group, and then leisurely loped toward the camps. While yet quite a way out, three w

Who goes

nd in the peace sign, and saying, "We are your frens, we

the ground. I guess you are all right." And then, looking at Ermine with a laugh: "Is that blonde there a Cr

rn a mon's face red to be schared

f a smile stole over John

mp; are all those soldiers afraid of two men?" And the pickets laughed at the

are

people. Did you see that we a

Indians chase you.

" And again the corner of

me," replied the officer, as he turned to ride ba

n, and my comrad

is you

, and I want to be a sc

authority will be glad to put you on the pay-roll. You