to centre upon one side of the circle, and then, decked in
war-paint, gay with beads and feathers, and carrying a rifle, Cut Finger
stepped silently and haughtily into the circle and stood motionless as a
statue, his tall figure erect and rigid as an oak.

A moaning sound swept over the assembly, and every eye was fixed on the
young man. "Ahee! Ahee!" the women wailed, in astonishment and fear; two
or three began a low, sad chant, and death seemed to stretch a black
wing over the council. By his weapons, by his war-paint, by his bared
head decked with eagle-plumes, and by the haughty lift of his face, Cut
Finger proclaimed louder than words:

"I am the man who killed the herder."

Standing so, he began to sing a stern song:

"I alone killed him--the white man.
He was a thief and I killed him.
No one helped me; I alone fired the shot.
He will drive his sheep no more on Tetong lands.
This dog of a herder.
He lies there in the short grass.
It was I, Cut Finger, who did it."

As his chant died away he turned: "I go to the hills to fight and die
like a man." And before the old men could stay him he had vanished among
the young horsemen of the outer circle, and a moment later the loud
drumming of his pony's hoofs could be heard as he rode away.

* * * * *

Curtis was sitting alone in the library when a tap at his window
announced the presence of Grayman.

Following a gesture, the chieftain came in, and, with a look on his face
which expressed high resolution and keen sorrow, he said:

"The man who killed the herder is found. He has proclaimed himself at
our council, and he has ridden away into the hills."

"Who was he?"

"Cut Finger."

"Ah! So? Well, you have done your duty. I will not ask you to arrest
him. Crow will do that. I hope"--he hesitated--"I hope your son was not
with him?"

"'I alone did it,' he says. My son is innocent."

"I am very glad," replied Curtis, looking into the old man's tremulous
face. "Go home and sleep in peace."

With a clasp of the hand Grayman said good-night and vanished.

There was nothing to be done till morning, and Curtis knew the habits of
the Indians too well to be anxious about the criminal. Calling his
faithful Crane's Voice, he said:

"Crane, will you go to Pinon City?"

Crane's Voice straightened. "To-night?"

"Yes, to-night."

"If you will let me wear a blue coat I will go."

Curtis smiled. "You a