ded and deposited them near where the
led-horses were kept. The injured men were attended to, and the dead
buried carefully in robes.

"One warrior lies dead near the feet of Yellow-Eyes; if they get his
scalp he will go to the hungry islands in the middle of the Big Water
and we shall never see him in the spirit-land. We must not let them
touch his hair, brothers. If the Yellow-Eyes come from behind their
packs we must charge--we must eat the flying fire or all be rubbed out.
If they do not come out the ravens will not have to wait long for the
feast." Thus said the Bat. He had kept his word about going farther
toward the enemy than any other and was now moved to resort to strategy.
He did not martial his warriors in a line but deployed them about the
citadel of the plains. That place, robbed of its horrors, gave no sign
of life except a burned and injured pony which half raised itself and
slowly moved its head from side to side in its agony. But behind it
there was promise of deadly rifles and the bursting fire.

The warriors stood like vultures on the plains, by twos and threes,
smoking and feeding their ponies from their lariats. They spoke of the
chief no longer as the Bat, but called him "Fire Eater," or "The man who
eats the flying fire." The ravens hovered about the place and wise gray
wolves sat haunched in a still larger ring without. Slowly the sun moved
across the heavens. The scene was quiet and pitiful.

Night came on, but nothing happened. Before the moon rose out of the
darkness a rifle flashed behind the bales, when again the quiet became
intensified by the explosion. The wolves sang their lullaby of death,
but on the prairie that was as the ceaseless, peaceful surging of the
waves on the ocean sand.

When the warriors returned in small parties to their camp for
refreshment they saw the dead body of Owl Bear--he who had fallen
outside the barricade of the Yellow-Eyes. The "Fire Eater" had brought
it in during the night--having approached and carried it away--drawing
the fire of the rifle but saving the hair and shadow-self of his
brother.

For seven days the Chis-chis-chash stood about the doomed place. Twice
they had approached it and had lost another warrior, shot by the fatal
rifle of the beaver-men. Then they had drawn off and given up in the
face of the deadly shooting--concluding to let nature work for the
victory.

Becoming eager and restless on the last day, the "Fire Eater" wounded
the