hash threw approving glances after
the Bat as he strode proudly about the camp. He was possessed of all
desirable things conceivable to the red mind. Nothing that ever bestrode
a horse was more exquisitely supple than the well-laid form of this
young Indian man; his fame as a hunter was great, but the taking of the
Absaroke scalp was transcendent. Still, it was not possible to realize
any matrimonial hopes which he was led to entertain, for his four ponies
would buy no girl fit for him. The captured war-pony, too, was one of
these, and not to be transferred for any woman.

The Bat had conjured with himself and conceived the plan of a trip to
the far south--to the land of many horses--but the time was not yet.

As the year drew on, the Chis-chis-chash moved to the west--to the
great fall buffalo-hunt--to the mountains where they could gather fresh
tepee-poles, and with the hope of trade with the wandering trapper
bands. To be sure, the Bat had no skins of ponies to barter with them,
but good fortune is believed to stand in the path of every young man,
somewhere, some time, as he wanders on to meet it. Delayed ambition did
not sour the days for the Indian. He knew that the ponies and the women
and the chieftainship would come in the natural way; besides which, was
he not already a warrior worth pointing at?

He accompanied the hunters when they made the buffalo-surround, where
the bellowing herds shook the dusty air and made the land to thunder
while the Bat flew in swift spirals like his prototype. Many a carcass
lay with his arrows driven deep, while the squaws of Big Hair's lodge
sought the private mark of the Bat on them.

The big moving camp of the Chis-chis-chash was strung over the
plains--squaws, dogs, fat little boys toddling after possible prairie
dogs, tepee ponies, pack-animals with gaudy squaw trappings, old chiefs
stalking along in their dignified buffalo-robes--and a swarm of young
warriors riding far on either side.

The Bat and Red Arrow's lusty fire had carried them far in the front,
and as they slowly raised the brow of a hill they saw in the shimmer
of the distance a cavalcade with many two-wheeled carts--all dragging
wearily over the country.

"The Yellow-Eyes!" said the Bat.

"Yes," replied Red Arrow. "They always march in the way the wild ducks
fly--going hither and yon to see what is happening in the land. But
their medicine is very strong; I have heard the old men say it."

"Hough! it may