the buffalo below.

The Fire Eater carefully pressed down the tuft of loose hair which sat
upright on the crown of his head after the manner of his people, and
leaving his rifles he walked down toward the seething dust-blown jumble
where the hunters were shearing their bewildered game. No one noticed
him, and the dust blew over him from the milling herd. Presently a
riderless pony came by, and seizing its lariat he sprang on its back.
He rode through the whirling dust into the surround and approaching an
excited and preoccupied Shoshone stabbed him repeatedly in the back. The
Indian yelled, but no one paid any attention in the turmoil. The Fire
Eater slung his victim across his pony, taking his scalp. He seized his
lance and pony and rode slowly away toward the bluffs. After securing
his rifle he gained the timber and galloped away.

On his road he met a belated scout of the enemy coming slowly on a jaded
horse. This man suspected nothing until the Fire Eater raised his rifle,
when he turned away to fly. It was too late and a second scalp soon
dangled at the victor's belt. He did not take the tired horse for it was
useless.

Swiftly he rode now for he knew that pursuit was sure, but if one was
instituted it never came up and before many days the Cheyennes rode
along his own tepees, waving the emblem of his daring, and the camp grew
noisy with exultation. The mourning paint was washed from each face
and the old pipe-men said: "The Bat will be a great leader in war--his
medicine is very strong and he eats fire." The chiefs and council
withheld their discipline, and the Fire Eater grew to be a great man
in the little world of the Chis-chis-chash, though his affairs
proportionately were as the "Battles of the Kites and Crows."

[Illustration: 11 The Fire Eater slung his victim across his pony, taking his scalp]

VI. The Fire Eater's Bad Medicine

The Chis-chis-chash had remembered through many "green grasses" that the
Fire Eater had proven himself superior to the wrath of the Bad Gods who
haunt the way of the men who go out for what the Good Gods offer--the
ponies, the women and the scalps. He had become a sub-chief in the Red
Lodge military clan. He had brought many painted war-bands into the big
camp with the scalps of their tribal enemies dangling from their lance
heads. The village had danced often over the results of his victories.
Four wives now dressed and decorated his buffalo robes. The seams of his
c