11 Fire and Water

Waditaka rose, restored fully in both body and mind, although the dawn was far from bright, the sun being hidden by drifting clouds, while the air was raw and chilly. But the fires, though they had sunk much, were still burning, and they threw out a consoling warmth. One of the trout was left and he put it over the coals.

“Now, Hogan (Fish) you have passed the time when it will hurt you to make a better acquaintance with Peta,” he said, “and, since the closer contact will serve me better, you must make it.”

The fish was browned delicately, and he ate it along with several slices of venison, following them with a cool drink from the friendly green stream. Then he saw the great tracks of Warankxi, stopping just where the firelight threw its farthest edge, and his nature had become so thoroughly primordial, so closely linked with that of the great beasts, which early man hunted and which hunted early man, that he laughed as if a human being seeking his life had been balked in the effort.

“O, Warankxi,” he said, “you tried to steal upon me like a coward in the dark, when I slept, and I see that you brought your brother with you. But I had put Peta on guard and you were afraid of him when he licked out his red tongue at you. Both of you ran away like scared rabbits. Is it not so, O, Mini? You are here always, both by day and by night, and you saw.”

“It is so, Wicaxta,” gurgled the water.

Will felt an immense satisfaction, and he resolved that he would never let Peta go out while he was in the valley. He would show his gratitude by prolonging as much as possible the life of a vanishing element. Prudence also was added to gratitude. The drifting clouds were becoming stationary, and they had thickened greatly. The sky was dull gray and gloom gathered heavily in the valley. He collected, at speed, great quantities of fallen wood to feed Peta, and then he rapidly cut down brush, with which to build a rude wickiup, just before the largest fire, using the trunk of the great tree as one side and chief support. Now and then as he worked, he glanced up at the clouds, and he was quite sure that they would soon open, letting down an immense volume of snow. But before the first flakes fell he succeeded in putting on the crude roof of poles and brush, and, after heaping fresh wood on the fire he sat down, inside on his narrow bed, also of brush.

Then the snow came, as if it were resolved to fill up the whole well of a valley, and Waditaka, from the open side of the wickiup, watched Peta fight with Wa (Snow). At the opening attack of Wa, Peta cowered down. The great red flames, wavering back and forth and so full of life, quivered and sank, sputtering with wrath. But Peta was not conquered nor even dimmed for long. Taking fresh grip on the wood that continually fed his strength and life, back he came, crackling and roaring, rising in triumph as high as before, or higher, shaking his lofty red crest in defiance at Wa.

Wa came down all the faster, pouring streams of great white flakes, but loftier and loftier grew the red spires of Peta. Waditaka, lying in his wickiup, which had one side open to the fire, felt their penetrating warmth and rejoiced in the certainty that Peta would be the victor. A thing could be so strong that victory over obstacles merely made it stronger, and such was Peta. Much of its roaring and crackling now came from triumph over Wa.

Wa was not ignoble in himself. The oceans of flakes contained both beauty and grandeur. Many of the flakes were long and lacy at the edges like feathers. As they came down they formed, too, a white veil through which everything was magnified and glorified. The trees grew white and the whole valley was filled with a white light. But young Waditaka felt that at present Wa, despite his beauty, was hostile to him. One could perish easily in a great fall of snow and so the success of Peta meant life. He knew now that the flames would rise steadily many hours, no matter how hard Wa might wage war, and he felt immense satisfaction.

The primordial youth was, in truth, happy just then. He had all that the primordial man spent most of his life fighting for—food and shelter—and the victory of Peta over Wa had been due to his own forethought and preparation. Wa came out of the skies, Peta had been created by his own hand, and the fire was surely beautiful to look at, with its broad base, and red cone tapering into a lofty spire, from which the sparks in myriads, like fireflies, shot boldly upward through the falling snow.

He felt warm, safe and happy. He never doubted for a moment that he would find his comrades, or that they would find him. His stay in the valley was merely an interruption, not a misfortune. It was so soothing and comfortable in the wickiup that he dozed a while, and then awoke to find Wa falling as hard and steadily as ever, and Peta crackling and roaring away in triumph, just as before. Beyond the firelight, and almost hidden in Wa’s white veil, he saw three or four great, shambling forms, and he knew that Warankxi had come to see. The grizzly bear was Rota in the language of the Sioux, but Warankxi was the generic name for the bear, and as the immense bears of the north were not grizzlies the members of the little Dakota band called them Warankxi.

Waditaka felt so little alarm at the presence of the bears that he did not reach for his weapons. Peta not only fought for him against Wa, but also defended him from Warankxi. He was quite sure that Peta crackled and roared with unexampled fury when Warankxi appeared in the shadows beyond. Fancy was so strong within him then that he saw the great tower of fire lean toward the bears, and send off showers of sparks in their direction. The bears shivered and drew back until their figures were mere shadows. Waditaka laughed, and his laugh was a compound of delight and derision.

“O Warankxi,” he called through the driving snow, “I see you, come again, hiding there in the shadows! A coward you were and are! I am lying here where you can see me, but I do not reach for Itazipe (Bow) and Wanhinkpe (Arrow), and Mazakanptcedan (pistol) lies untouched in my belt! I know that Peta, who has conquered Wa in my behalf will take care of me against Warankxi! Now, while you slink there in the shadows, I go back to sleep!”

He kept his word. Ixtima (Sleep) took him in the next five minutes. The bears were still in the shadows and the man-odor of the slumbering youth came to them. They were hungry and the most powerful of all their instincts pulled them on, but before them stretched Peta, a wall of terror, and at last they drew away, seeking the great hidden caves in which they made their dens.

Old Inmutanka, a huge yellow panther which lived on the western edge of the valley, also detected the succulent odor of man, and came to look over the scene, but did not find it to his taste. Peta was truly a terrifying guardian, so tall, so red, so fiercely hot, and all the while crackling out threats, too.

While Inmutanka looked on Peta suddenly bent over with a shift of the wind and sent a shower of sparks in his direction. Dozens of them lodged in his yellow coat, and one, tremendously alive and active, struck him in his left eye. Uttering a shrill, almost human, scream of pain and anger, Inmutanka fled into the forest, completely defeated by Peta, plunged into a snow bank to rid himself of the fiery little darts that were burning into him, and then resumed a rapid flight for his lair.

The sudden gust of wind passed and Peta straightened up, still crackling. Had Waditaka been awake he would have said that the crackle was a laugh. Peta was laughing at his easy victory over Inmutanka. One attack by his flames, with a shower of sparks thrown out as skirmishers, was enough. Inmutanka had run away like a frightened rabbit before that charge. Now, the great animals having had enough of it, the combat was left to Peta and Wa. They had the field alone, and, like valiant warriors, they fought all through the afternoon and all through the evening that followed. Wa, always beaten, never failed to come on again. Hour after hour he poured his white columns down on Peta, who merely gave his crackling laugh and devoured all the flakes that struck him. In the morning, when Waditaka awoke, although Wa was yet bringing up his battalions, Peta was still the victor. The supply of wood was so great that the flames were as bright and high as ever.

Young Waditaka arose, stretched his muscles and was pleased with himself, although the flakes of snow were coming down in such dense columns that he could see but a little distance beyond Peta’s rim. He ate of his venison, and, with a stout stick, knocked the snow off the roof of his wickiup, lest the brush and poles fall in beneath the weight. Then he stood by the fire a little while, basking in the glow. Beyond the melting touch of the fire’s warmth the snow lay a full three feet in depth and more than a foot of it lay over the tracks left by Warankxi. Nevertheless, as he made a circuit, wading in the snow, he found coarse hairs left on some bushes and he knew that Warankxi had been there.

He read the whole story as clearly as if he had seen it enacted. The bears had come for him, but Peta, red and blazing, had stood in the way. He had saved it from vanishing in the dark, and it had saved him from tooth and claw. While the score might be even, he was none the less grateful on that account.

“O, Peta,” he said, “you are my champion and defender. You and Mini fight always on my side. I thank you and I promise you in return that as long as I am in the valley you shall not vanish into nothingness. The wood on which you feed, and, without which there is no life for you, shall always be here.”

He felt about in the snow and dragged up vast quantities of fallen brushwood which he heaped near, food for Peta’s throat whenever it should be needed. He consumed the whole morning in the task, and then, after more venison, broke a way through to his other great friend, Mini, the green stream. He expected to find it frozen over, or choked with huge heaps of snow, but the air was not cold enough for ice, and the swift current, cutting its way through, flowed on, laughing as pleasantly as ever, brilliant bubbles breaking on its surface, as if they were there for decorative purposes, and to please the eyes of young Waditaka. It was a brave stream. Wa had failed to conquer Peta, and by just as much had he failed to conquer Mini. On the contrary, the faster Wa fell the more Mini was enlarged by the flakes, taken into its bosom, and turned into water.

“Between you two, Mini and Peta, I shall be saved,” said Waditaka, speaking directly to the stream. “Peta will keep me warm, and Mini will feed me, and the time may come when one or the other of you will show me the way out.”

The last was a word spoken at hazard, and forgotten a moment later for the time. He never dreamed then that it would come true. But he was sure since Wa had not triumphed over Mini that he could catch enough trout for food, as long as he stayed in the valley, no matter how long. He had venison and bear meat enough to last a week, and he devoted the remainder of the day to strengthening his wickiup, cutting many slender poles for the sides and roof. When the snowy twilight came he put another great heap of wood on the big fire, gave it full encouragement for a second night’s battle with Wa, and then, creeping into his reenforced wickiup, slept, absolutely confident that loyal Peta would protect him, no matter what came.

The next morning showed no tracks in the snow about his little home. If Warankxi still felt inclination to devour him his fears of Peta had kept him away. The fire, moreover, was still burning finely. There had been plenty of wood to feed Peta well all through the night, but Wa, giving up the battle, had now ceased to fall. Nevertheless, the snow lay a full five feet in depth over the levels, and much deeper in the dips and gulches. It was with difficulty that Waditaka broke short paths through it, one down to the brook, and others into the forest where he might obtain more firewood, which, by good fortune, was in great abundance.

But he did not wish to go far. He had no reason for doing so. Under the conditions now prevailing it was impossible to try the ascent of the cliff again, even if the king wolf should not be on guard there, and so he remained most of the time beside his bonfire, which he built to a great height, still having a hope that his loyal Dakota comrades might see that lofty red spire, or the blue smoke issuing from it. The heavens themselves appeared to nurse this hope, as he had never seen them clearer. The whole dome was a dazzling blue, against which every trace of smoke showed at a vast height. It was a signal that he had sent far into the vault, but he must wait patiently to know whether it would avail him anything.

He might have been discouraged had it not been for the fire. Never was there a braver, or more cheerful or more talkative fire. Fully a Dakota now, he became thoroughly steeped in their beliefs, while he was a captive in the lone valley, and he was subject to Dakota emotions and impulses. The fire was incarnate. There was a good spirit in it, or rather it was a good spirit itself. How could anyone doubt a fact so manifest? And the spirit of the fire talked through the crackling of the flames as they ate into the wood which he supplied to them. Everything combined to develop an imagination extremely lively and sensitive at any time, and Peta’s talk translated itself to him.

“Fear not, O Waditaka,” Peta repeated. “Lo, I have conquered Wa! He ceased to fall, and I burn more merrily than ever! You have kept me alive, and in return I warm you and hold the soul in your body! Fear not, O, Waditaka, brave young warrior! It is the patient and persevering who win!”

Peta was so soothing and clothed him around with so much warmth and light that Waditaka was quite content to sit in comfort and wait. While a prisoner in the valley he was able now to admire its beauty and magnificence under its deep white covering. The great domes of the trees bent over a little beneath their weight of snow, the bushes everywhere were delicate and intricate lace work, and the air was so pure that it seemed to fill his lungs with a vigor he had never known before.

He communed with Peta nearly all the morning, but in the afternoon he took his hook and line, and went down to see what Mini had to offer. He knew the stream would be swollen yet more by melted snow, but he was quite sure he could catch trout in the nearest deep pool. But Mini was far larger than he had expected, already overflowing his banks nearly everywhere, while his song was much louder and much more rollicking in tone than it had been before the great snow fell.

“See me grow! See how large I am!” sang Mini in Waditaka’s ear. “My stream has become twice as deep in a day! I eat fast at the snow on my banks, and I flourish on what I eat!”

The swift current gave a triumphant swish. Little pools and backwaters, swirling and eddying, chattered in minor tones the same victorious chant. Unquestionably Mini was feeling puffed up in spirit as well as fact, and Waditaka was in full sympathy. Mini reminded him somewhat of Hoton. Mini boasted like Hoton, but, like Hoton, Mini had something to boast about.

“By fire and water I shall be protected and saved,” said young Waditaka, remembering his former inspiration. “Now fire has shown how it protects me, but water has not yet shown how it will save me! O, Mini, how will it be?”

But the green waters merely foamed and tumbled and sang as they raced away, and did not answer. Then the lad devoted himself to his work in the deep pool, and again caught two fine trout, one of which he ate for supper, saving the other for breakfast. He slept very warmly and in great comfort a second night in his wickiup under the protection of Peta, and finding the next morning so much colder that he did not sink very deeply in the snow he took his weapons and went forth to explore. He had been about the valley several times, but he did not know what changes had occurred since Wa had poured down so hard and long.

He found nothing until he came near the southern end. Then he heard a savage growl behind a clump of bushes, and, drawing back, he made ready with bow and arrow. One of the monstrous mountain wolves appeared, struggling in the deep snow, and, standing at a safe distance, Will slew it with three arrows. He withdrew the precious shafts, and, at another time, might have taken the skin, but he could not carry such a heavy load now, and he left the body to the scavengers. The incident made him very thoughtful. Wolves were in the valley now, and he was quite sure none had been there when he arrived. Bears were there, also, but they might make it their permanent home. Not so the wolves. How had they come? He thought upon the problem a long time, but, as no solution presented itself, he gave it up, and turned his mind to other matters. He did not have much fear of the great animals while the snow was so deep. The bears most likely would keep to their hidden caves, and if any more wolves appeared they could only flounder in the deep snow, while he picked them off with his arrows.

An entire week passed. Now and then he built his fire to unexampled height, sending lofty signals into the heavens, but, as no reply ever came, he reached the regretful conclusion that his comrades had wandered to so great a distance that smoke, no matter how high, could not be seen by them. His spirits refused to sink. If they showed any tendency to do so Peta and Mini always raised them up. He kept his promise to the fire. Throughout the week he fed it nobly. There was always plenty of wood for the flames to eat and crackle over joyously, and Mini, the stream, grew and grew and grew. The pools continued to furnish all the trout he needed and life might have been very comfortable for one who had returned to the primordial state, but he felt that he had overstayed his time in the valley. If he was to help Roka and the others find the great buffalo ranges of the far North it was time for him to be moving.

The snow was melting fast. It fell in showers from the great domes of the trees, and, thundered, as it rolled in avalanches down the cliff. Putting his pack on his back and taking all his weapons, young Waditaka went forth once more to explore. By some chance, he had let his fire sink lower than usual, lower than ever before, and, as he turned away, it seemed to him that the crackling of the flames was no longer merry and joyous. Unless his fancy was so intense that it deceived him, Peta’s note was that of farewell.

“Good-by, Waditaka!” sang the flames. “We have warmed you and protected you from the great wild beasts, and, as long as you could stay here, you kept us alive! You did not let us vanish into the dark and nothingness! Now we die, but we die only to live again elsewhere!”

Waditaka stared at the fire. Was it true that he was not coming back? Surely Peta would speak nothing but the truth. And if he did not come back Peta, of course, would vanish into the dark and nothingness. But it might be true that one fire could be a reincarnation of another, and it might be true, also, that one life was a reincarnation of another. Alone in the wilderness, one often had solemn thoughts, and the Dakota theology was molded in accordance with the great facts of nature. He must not leave Peta, who had been such a powerful friend, without a proper and grateful farewell. There was a great heap of wood on one side and he threw it all into the flames, which crackled and roared and leaped higher than ever, sending up myriads of sparks and a spire of blue smoke that pierced the very center of the heavens.

“And now, farewell, Peta,” he said. “I’ve created for you a right royal funeral pyre, one that will give you a glorious departure into the dark, and that will serve you well until your next reincarnation.”

He walked down to the green stream, now swollen beyond its banks by the melting snow, deep and swift, rolling tumultuously and rejoicing in the large and vigorous life that had come to it. It was beyond its banks everywhere, and, throwing off portions of its surplus waters, was cutting little new channels through the earth and snow. To young Waditaka, the Dakota, the spirit of the waters was alive and leaping. In his Dakota belief all things, the inanimate as well as the animate—because the inanimate were only seemingly so—were incarnated, and he was pleased at Mini’s clamorous song. He liked to see the stream enjoy its abounding life, while it could, because in time it would have to sink back into its natural channel, just as a human being, after momentous days, returns to the ordinary current of life.

“O, Mini,” he said, “it is your hour, and I see that you appreciate it and enjoy it to the full. Now, Peta has done his work for me. He has kept me warm and has protected me until I feel that it is time for me to go. And you are to save me. How do you intend to do it?”

The water bubbled, and, as sure as there were eyes in his head, he saw it boil into little fountains and cascades directly in front of him. And as sure, too, as he had ears, he heard its song increase in volume.

“Follow me! Follow me!” chanted Mini. “I have given my promise and I will save you! Be thou of brave heart, O, Waditaka, and follow!”

Nothing could ever persuade him that he did not hear the words, said especially for his benefit, and he took his course by the side of the stream, making his way through the deep and slushy snow, and leaping the rivulets that branched off from the main current. And Mini never ceased to chant in his ear his song of encouragement and to bid him follow on. Three quarters of the way to the enclosing cliff and Mini suddenly shot off a stream fully one-third his own in volume, pouring it down a little ravine that was dry in ordinary times. He had followed the main current until it plunged into the low mouth under the stone, a mouth that must be choked now by the swollen waters, and partly the cause of this overflow. He would follow the new channel and see where it led. He walked a few steps down the side of the ravine, and stopped, listening. Would Mini bid him come back?

There was no chant of recall. The new stream, instead, although much smaller, sang a song of its own for him, and it was more than a song of welcome. It also bade him come, and ran swiftly to its unknown destination. Waditaka’s heart began to beat hard. He could feel the pulses in his temples and wrists leaping. As Peta had kept his promise to him so would Mini. He followed, as fast as the deep and sodden snow would let him, and saw that the current was leading directly toward the circling cliff. It was running now through the open forest, but would soon plunge into a thick mass of bushes that grew at the base of the mountain wall.

The water was not banking up against the wall, and his pulses beat faster. He rushed forward, forcing his way through the bushes by the side of the stream, and came almost face to face with blank stone. But the water turned around it, and then he saw that the power of the stream had torn away a mass of bushes that had thoroughly hidden a narrow opening in the main wall. Not even the eyes of Roka or Pehansan would have seen that crevice. It was Mini alone that knew of it, and Mini was waiting for a vast increase in growth and strength when he could show the way.

Waditaka never doubted, for an instant, that he was saved. The spirit of the waters had been true and had kept the promise. He followed into the crevice, walking gingerly on a narrow ledge between the water and the stone. He expected to go into the dark and that he must feel his way, but it was merely a twilight, and he saw that he was under a natural bridge with a roof fully forty or fifty feet above him. Nor was the bridge long. He discovered clear daylight ahead, and he knew that he would soon come into a great ravine or cleft in the mountain. The way of escape lay straight before him. He looked down at the rushing and singing stream.

“O, Mini,” he said, “I thank you! As Peta kept his promise to warm and protect me, so you have kept your promise to save me! Never will I forget Fire and Water, my best friends!”

The ledge on which he walked soon broadened and the traveling was easy. He had nothing to guard against save slipping on the wet stone, and in a few minutes he passed under the arch, coming into the great cleft, which was thickly grown with spruce and pine and cedar. Then Warankxi, mighty in his size and wrath, rose up in his path, but he was not afraid. His natural courage and strength were reenforced by a great exultation, and, bending his bow, he fitted the arrow to the string.

“Now, Warankxi,” he shouted, “I’ve a friend, Itazipe (Bow) who fights for me, even as Peta did. Itazipe stays in my hands, but his child, Wanhinkpe (Arrow) will bite you deep! Come, you growling monster, face the three of us, and see what will happen to you!”

His voice rang in the deep cleft and came back in many echoes. The spirit of Hoton was upon him and, like the valiant boaster, he welcomed his enemy. The great bear seemed to be puzzled by the wild, chanting creature that confronted him, and reared upon his hind legs, revealing all his vast height, far greater than that of a man. A deep growl issued from his throat, and, after a moment or two of hesitation, he dropped back upon his four paws, lurching forward to the attack.

Waditaka’s skill and strength were equal to his spirits. The air hummed with his arrows as he planted them in the throat and flank of Warankxi. It seemed to him that the spring of Itazipe was more powerful than ever, and that Wanhinkpe whistled with eagerness to reach the target.

“Come, Warankxi, come!” he shouted. “I am waiting for you! Why are you so slow? The path is narrow here, and we two cannot pass! Come and fight with me for the right of way! What, you hesitate? Does little Wanhinkpe bite too deep for you? O Warankxi! Warankxi! You have stopped! Did I not warn you that Itazipe, Wanhinkpe and I would be your conquerors? Now you tremble and would turn, but it is too late! Wanhinkpe has bitten too deeply, great as you are! He has severed the cord of Wiconi (Life) and you pass into Tokata (Hereafter). Farewell, Warankxi!”

The great bear rose again upon his hind legs to his prodigious height and he was a terrible sight, with the blood pouring from him in streams, where the arrows were planted deep, gave a last growl more ferocious than all the others, shivered all over, and then fell with a crash upon the stone. Young Waditaka, now a Dakota in every sense, advanced with a shout of triumph and contemplated the mighty beast that he had slain, surely a member of the most monstrous tribe that roamed the American continent.

He had no doubt that both the bears and wolves had pushed their way into the valley by means of the crevice and through the bushes, and probably more of them would have come for him in time had he remained, but that caused him no fear now. His problem was solved. It was painful to a true Dakota to leave the vast pelt there, to be torn by wolves, but he had no choice. Such a skin could have been carried away only on a horse and, after cutting out the arrows, he walked on, his faithful bow ready in his hand. Before he was out of sight he heard a rush of feet and a snapping. Looking back he saw the wolves already at work, while overhead dark figures hovered, waiting for their share of the feast, when the stronger were done.

Waditaka saw that the cleft ascended gradually and that it was choked with evergreens from the summit. A stream of water from the melting snow flowed down its center and joined the overflow from the valley, the united current losing itself somewhere in hidden caverns below him. But he was now wholly pleased with his situation. As he climbed, the evergreens would give him shelter from the cold, and if he needed it, plenty of wood for a fire. It seemed to him that it was only a matter of time until he rejoined his comrades.

The ascent, however, was extremely slow, as he had to pick his way over rough boulders, and he was in continual fear lest he might slip upon a wet stone. A broken ankle would probably mean death alone there in the wilderness. But his spirits remained at the zenith. However pleasant the valley had been, it was a prison, nevertheless, and now the wide world was his own. He was free, and freedom was the most glorious of all things.

He toiled slowly and patiently upward, carrying his heavy pack and quiver on his back and his bow and one arrow in his hands. Now and then, where there were no boulders, the snow was so deep that he sank into it to his waist, and in other places he pulled himself along by means of the dwarfed evergreens. He thought it likely that he might meet one of the great wolves in the cleft, or the king wolf himself, but he saw nothing more than huge eagles soaring above him in the clear sky. His anger rose at sight of them. One had attacked him with beak and talons when he was making his perilous climb up the cliff, and his defense then had been handicapped by the necessity of saving himself from being dashed to death, but here he would have free play for his archery, just as he had enjoyed it when he met the great bear.

“O Wanmdi,” he shouted up into the heavens, “you rushed at me when my hands were not free. Come down now and have a taste of Wanhinkpe! Warankxi has tried it, but he was a big target, and he had to stay on the ground, but I promise you, Wanmdi, although you may swoop and circle, that you, too, shall learn how sharp and swift is Wanhinkpe!”

But Wanmdi did not come down. Perhaps from some convenient height he had seen the amazing death of Warankxi, slain from a distance by a human creature less than one-tenth his weight, and he and his comrades decided that it was not wise to attack when the human being stood on level ground and all his limbs were free. They flew in slow circles at a great height, and then sailed gracefully away beyond the mountains and out of sight. Waditaka, indignant at such cowardice, went on his way up the difficult slope.

It was well toward nightfall, when he reached the crest and looked upon a vast expanse of country, lofty peaks and ranges and valleys between, blue lakes shining here and there, and many clear streams. He concluded to send up another signal, and, laboriously gathering wood he built a big fire that rose, a mighty column of red, in the night. Then, thoroughly exhausted, he wrapped himself in his robes and fell asleep beside it.

In the morning his fire was still burning, but, no answer having come to the signal, he decided that he would travel as fast as he could in a general easterly direction. The great buffalo plains of the north lay that way and his comrades doubtless, having given him up as dead, had continued their original search. While the mountains were covered with snow all the valleys that his eyes reached were deep green, uniform in character with those they had passed, heavily wooded with trees of great height, and, beyond a doubt, abounding in game. An adept in the forest he would be in no danger of starvation, and if, by any chance, the animals escaped him the innumerable streams would yield abundant food to his hook and line. By day he felt that his bow and arrow would protect him from attack by the wild animals, and, at night, fire would be his guardian on the mountains, as it had been in the valley.

Full of confidence, he began his descent into the next great dip, which was of much greater width and extended a long distance to north and south, containing several small blue lakes. He judged that it lay a full three-quarters of a mile below him, and, as the slope was gradual, it would take him a long time to reach it. He went on, keeping a wary eye for Warankxi or Xunktokeca, and seeing traces of both on the soft ground.

Before night he was in the valley, which he found clear of snow and warm, but without sign of human habitation. Ripe strawberries grew on low vines in the grassy openings, and he enjoyed them as only one can who has lived a long time on an exclusively meat diet. He saw several small black bears feeding not far away on the berries, and he could easily have slain one with a single arrow. Black bear, moreover, was tender, but he did not even bend his bow. These bears were quite different from Warankxi. They were little, good-natured, and infected with the comic spirit. They had never seen human beings before, and they raised their noses, reddened with juice of the berries, cocking their heads on one side in an amusing manner, as they gazed at young Waditaka.

“Go on with your berries,” called the happy youth. “I’m your friend, not your enemy. You’ve nothing to fear from me.”

The bears took him at his word, and continued with the feast, varying it at times to romp with one another. Waditaka looked at them with amusement. These little black bears, that is little compared with the others, were his brethren of the wilderness and he hoped this valley would remain forever immune from men, both white and red, in order that it might furnish safe harvest and sport for the comedians of the forest.

He meant to make his camp the next night beside one of the blue lakes, but before the twilight he made a great discovery. He came unexpectedly upon a small bush, the top of which had been cut out with the keen blow of a tomahawk. He believed it to be a sign left by his comrades in the faint hope that he was yet alive, and, by some amazing chance, might see it. If so, another bush marked in the same manner would be not far away, and after some search he found it, and then a third. The course seemed to lead along the southern side of the lake and towards the east, but, as it was too late to go any farther that day, he prepared for his camp. Hook and line were brought into use once more and the fish tumbled over one another in their eagerness to get at the bait, thus proving to his own satisfaction that these waters had never before been fished in by man. It was a kind of salmon that he caught, not so delicate as the mountain trout, but good enough for anybody.

He built his fire high, not merely for the sake of warmth but to send forth the signal anew. Then, lying between it and the lake, he fell asleep, knowing that Peta and Minidi (Lake) would keep away all harm. He felt the pleasant kind of weariness that does not overstrain, but which makes the passage easy to Ixtima, He did not fall into slumber, he slipped away, easily and gracefully, and he did not stir all through the night. When he awoke at dawn Roka was broiling slices of venison over the fire that Waditaka had built, Pehansan was roasting a fat partridge on the end of a twig, Inmu was taking a short swim in the lake, Tarinca was scraping away at an arrow head, Wanmdi, Capa, Tatokadan and Hinyankaga were lying at ease on their robes, while Hoton, the valiant boaster, stood before him.

Waditaka looked at them sleepily, even with a certain air of reproach in his lazy glance.

“And so you’ve come at last!” he said. “I waited a long time for you. Have the feet of the Dakota grown heavy that they are so slow?”

Then he closed his eyes again and apparently was off to the pleasant land of Ixtima. But he roused himself with an effort because Hoton was speaking, and, as it seemed to him, in a tone of reproach.

“Waditaka,” said the Crow, “you went away from us and you did not tell us why you were going, or where. We would never have seen you again if it had not been for the wonderful skill and the watchful eyes of the great trailer, Hoton. Now you upbraid us for wandering from you, when it was you who went. Where have you been, Waditaka?”

“It’s a great tale, Hoton. I’ve had wonderful adventures, and I’ve overcome mighty dangers, beneath which you would have sunk, but it would take too many words for me to tell it now. I’ll go back to sleep, and, while I’m sleeping, be sure, Hoton, that you cook me the best of breakfasts, because I’m going to be a great chief, and I must be served well.”

He shut his eyes once more, and kept them shut tightly, although Hoton began to declaim with vigor and fire. At the end of five minutes he opened them again and said languidly:

“Are you still talking, Hoton?”

“Yes, Waditaka,” replied the boaster. “I am telling you that in the night I smelled the smoke of your fire, even when we could not see it.”

“It is true, Waditaka,” said Roka. “It was Hoton who first detected your signal and we came an hour ago. You were sleeping so soundly that we did not disturb you, but Manitou knows how glad we are to see you again. Now, your venison is ready.”

“And you are not more glad to see me than I am to see you,” said Will, rising and joining the others at breakfast.

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