to him, that he
may know I am in earnest, the other will you not wear for Dan?"

The brave grunted a pleased assent, and carefully selecting the
handkerchief with the brightest border, thrust it within his hunting
shirt. He then proceeded to the lodge of the old chief, bearing the other
ostentatiously in his hand, as though he were carrying the fate of his
nation in the gaudy bit of silk and cotton weaving.

"What are you trading for?" asked Lyster, and looked like protesting, when
Overton answered:

"An audience with Akkomi."

"Great Caesar! is one of that sort not enough? I'll never feel that my hand
is clean again until I can give it a bath with some sort of disinfectant
stuff. Now there's another one to greet! I'll not be able to eat fish
again for a year. Why didn't luck send the old vagabond hunting with the
rest? I can endure the women, for they don't sprawl around you and shake
hands with you. Just tell me what I'm to donate for being allowed to bask
in the light of Akkomi's countenance? Haven't a thing over here but some
cigars."

Overton only laughed silently, and gave more attention to the lodge of
Akkomi than to his companion's disgust. When Black Bow emerged from the
tent, he watched him sharply as he approached, to learn from the Indian's
countenance, if possible, the result of the message.

"If he sends a royal request that we partake of supper, I warn you, I
shall be violently and immediately taken ill--too ill to eat," whispered
Lyster, meaningly.

Black Bow seated himself, filled his pipe, handed it to a squaw to light,
and then sent several puffs of smoke skyward, ere he said:

"Akkomi is old, and the time for his rest has come. He says the door of
his lodge is open--that Dan may go within and speak what there is to say.
But the stranger--he must wait till the day comes again."

"Snubbed me, by George!" laughed Lyster. "Well, am I then to wait outside
the portals, and be content with the crumbs you choose to carry out to
me?"

"Oh, amuse yourself," returned Overton, carelessly, and was on his feet at
once. "I leave you to the enjoyment of Black Bow."

A moment later he reached the lodge of the old chief and, without
ceremony, walked in to the center of it.

A slight fire was there,--just enough to kill the dampness of the river's
edge, and over it the old squaw of Akkomi bent, raking the dry sticks,
until the flames fluttered upward and outlined the form of the chief,
coiled on a pile o