and I made signs for him to picket his horse and join us
at supper. I knew he was trailing the camp outfit, which had gone and
was many miles away by this time. He pretended not to understand, but
looking much disappointed, started to ride away. I hailed him and told
him to go back and get his packs, and come have supper with us, and
picket his horses with ours. His face remained blank, and he showed no
sign of understanding till I added that I was a friend of the Little
Bear chief, and had kept the officers from arresting his braves at Razor
Creek many moons ago. Then his face lighted up. "Ugh, me see you before.
How you know me got pack horses? You no see 'em."

"Never mind, I know Injin," I replied, "I heap plenty see."

He turned down the trail and soon returned with three good looking
packs, well loaded. I showed him a good place to unpack and he made
short work of it. And then what a supper that Indian did eat!

After supper I told him the story of the Reil rebellion in Canada, and
how when they got whipped the halfbreeds and Indians came across the
line into the United States; and the history of his grandfather, the Big
Bear, and his father, the Little Bear. All of this amused him and put
him on very easy terms for the night. I asked him why he would not talk
with me when he first came up.

He said, "Sometimes Injin say too much. Me no talk much. Better so. Some
white man want to know heap too much. You my friend. You Little Bear
friend, my papa."

"Yes," I said, "I understand, but you can talk like the pale face some,
and you have a Cree alphabet."

"Me no can say what you mean," he replied.

I took a paper and showed him some of the letters which ran like this
[Illustrations: Triangular Symbols]

"Yes, me heap understand."

"I got some letters from Canada, which were written to your father. Your
sister read them to me in English, and I sent letters to the Great
Father at Washington, to get a place for your tribe with the Crows."

"Yes, me heap savy now," he said.

[Illustration: ROCKY MOUNTAIN BIG HORN]

CHAPTER VII

THE STORY OF AGGRETTA AND RED ARROW

On my return I passed the Little Horn, swung to the west, and traveled
up the Big Horn to the canyon, where I found some mixed Indians who were
busy catching and drying white fish. There were River Crows, Shoshones,
and a few Mountain Crows camped along the river in their summer homes or
wickyups.

After I had dismounted, taken off my