though he'd like to be a kid again, and up to some such boyish prank.
Whitey was on Monty, Injun on his pinto, leading a pack-horse laden with
their few belongings. From the corral the intelligent eyes of the
iron-gray colt regarded them with interest; the colt that was to be
trained for racing, and that Whitey hoped to ride in rodeos.

This country was so full of game that all one had to do was to go a mile
from any town, in any direction, to find it. Prairie chickens were most
prolific; the principal game. They were so plentiful that one could
walk through thousands of them and they would part and allow the hunter
to move among them, without taking wing.

Of course, one never would dream of shooting at a bird unless it was on
the wing. The only time that was excusable was when hunting for
partridges among the trees in the foothills. Usually Injun with his bow
and arrow would take first shot at the partridge as it perched in the
tree branches. If he missed, which he seldom did, Whitey would let go
his shot-gun when the partridge was on the wing. And as Injun seldom
missed, Mr. Partridge lost both ways. But this day the shot-gun was at
home, so Injun bagged all the partridges they needed for food.

The prairie chickens have a peculiar call. First the hens cry, in a
high, treble, "Chuck-luck, chuck-a-luck!" and the male replies, in a
deep, full sound, "Bomb-bombo-boo!"

In that part of the country there was a rather eccentric character named
Charlie Clark. He had been creased on the head by a bullet sometime,
somehow, and he was not exactly all there. And Injun and Whitey used to
interpret the calls of the prairie chicks to:

"Char-lie--Clar-k--Char-lie--Clar-k--Char-lie--Clar-k--" for the hens,
and:

"Darn'd ol-fool--" for the males.

And so the boys went on their merry, heedless way. They expected to camp
in the foothills that night, and had made about ten miles in a leisurely
way, when Injun happened to look back and saw an object approaching them
in an uncertain and wobbly but determined manner. Injun's sharp eyes
soon identified it as Sitting Bull. The boys were first surprised, then
sorry that Bull should have had such a long pursuit, but that did not
keep back Whitey's laughter when Bull staggered up to where they waited
for him. He sure was a happy dog, and fatigue did not keep him from
showing it, his method being to twist his body into almost a
half-circle, wag his stump tail, and prance about gazing d