nd with the music.

"Thus the days and nights were passed until the end of their fourteen
day holiday had come. The chief and his squaw had become acquainted with
the leaders of the twenty-eight tribes, and after the annual worship was
over and the customary gifts had been made to the young chief, Red
Arrow, and his bride, each tribe, headed by the subchief went to their
homes among the mountains."

CHAPTER VIII

CLOSING WORDS

One evening, when the old squaw seemed to be in a friendly mood, I made
some inquiries as to where the several tribes had lived, and she said:
"You white man want to know heap about Sheep Eaters. Why for you know so
much?"

I told her I was very much interested in her people. Then I gave her a
pretty bead necklace of regular crow beads, ornamented with paint. She
put them on and a smile lighted the wrinkled old face.

"White man heap good," she said, patting the beads; then after admiring
the beads for a time, she turned her attention to me. "White man find
many camps of Sheep Eaters on Paint Rocks. Sheep Eaters make much squaw
and papoose on rocks. On Great Mountain, white man find many tepees and
sheep pens where Indian catch much sheep to eat. Many rivers away up in
mountain, find much Indian work. Away up close to bad spirit country,
you find many tepee, much rich plenty. (National Park.) Our people think
bad spirits always at war in the earth, so our people scarcely ever went
into that country, although our great men fetch obsidian from there to
make arrows. Our men make arrows of the most beautiful design. We were
called the arrow makers. We made the most beautiful fur garments and our
tanned skins were the best."

"Tell me who you are, are you a chief's daughter?" I asked.

She turned her eyes away at the question, and sat for a long time with
that vacant look on her face as though seeing all her past; then
suddenly she turned, and looking squarely at me, she said, "Me Red
Arrow's squaw."

I was amazed, but could not doubt her word, as she had told me the truth
so far as I had investigated. It seemed impossible that this most
haggard of old women could have been the most beautiful girl of her
tribe. But a hundred and fifteen years of life can change much, even the
beautiful curves of the human body and the roses on the cheek and lip. A
hundred and fifteen years! But this was the chance of a lifetime, I must
not let it slip away while I dreamed.

"Where did your people