had set out for home without making his re-
port. But this supposition was not deemed
credible. On the other hand, the idea was en-
tertained that he had reentered the village, was
detected and slain; and therefore the enemy
was on the lookout when the attack was made.

"Hay, hay, hay, mechinkshe (Alas, alas,
my son)!" was the sorrowful cry with which
his old father received the news. His head
fell upon his breast, and all the others groaned
in sympathy.

The sunset sky was a blanket of beautiful
painting. There were camp-fires among the
clouds in orange and scarlet, while some were
black as night. So the camp fairly glowed in
celebration of its heroes; yet there was deep
grief in many families. When the evening meal
had been eaten and the people were sitting out-
side their lodges, a tall old man, almost nude,
appeared in the circle, riding a fine horse.
He had blackened his face, his hair was cut
short, and the horse also had been deprived of
his flowing mane and tail. Both were in deep
mourning, after the fashion of the Sioux.

"Ho ho!" exclaimed many warriors as he
passed them, singing in a hoarse, guttural voice.