determined to get back to
work. These last few days have been so exciting. Is there any news?"

"Yes. The murderer proclaimed himself at a big council last night."

"He did! Oh, tell me about it! When?"

"I don't know exactly the hour, but the chieftains came to me about nine
o'clock. I know him well; he is a reckless, handsome, half-crazy young
man--" He broke off suddenly as Heavybreast, one of the policemen,
profoundly excited, darkened the door-way. "Cut Finger is on the hill,"
he signed, and pointed away with trembling finger to a height which rose
like a monstrous bee-hive just behind the school-house. On the rounded
top, looking like a small monument on a colossal pedestal, sat a mounted
warrior.

"What is he there for?" asked Curtis.

"He wants to die like Raven Face. He wants to fight the cowboys, he
says. He don't want to hurt any one else, he says; only the cowboys and
their war chief, so he says."

"Where is Crow? I want this man arrested and brought to me."

"Now he will shoot any one who goes up the hill; he has said so. All the
people are watching."

Curtis mused a moment. "Can you send word to him?"

"Yes; his wife is here."

"Then tell him I will not let him fight. Tell him that shooting will do
no good, and that I want him to come down and see me."

The officer trotted away.

"What did he say?" asked Elsie. "What is that man on the hill for?"

"That is Cut Finger, the guilty man. He proclaimed himself the murderer
last night and now he is willing to die, but wants to die on his horse."

The whole agency was again tremulous with excitement. The teachers, the
scholars, the native employes were all gathered into chattering groups
with eyes fixed on the motionless figure of the desperate horseman, and
in the camps above the agency an almost frenzied excitement was
spreading. The stark bravery of the boy's attitude had kindled anew the
flame of war, and behind Cut Finger on the hills two groups of mounted
warriors had gathered suddenly. Several of the more excitable old women
broke into a war-song, whose wail came faintly to the ears of the agent.

"Two Horns, silence those singers," said Curtis, sternly.

Elsie and Jennie and the Parkers joined the group around the agent, and
Miss Colson, the missionary, came flying for refuge at the side of her
hero.

"What are you going to do?" asked Parker. "If the fellow really means to
shoot, of course no man can go up to him. You might send some s