ry to his pride and person, McPhail had decided to inflict severe
humiliation on the red men prominent in the affair. First, White Wolf's
boy should be made to suffer, and then Thunder Hawk, who had dared to
oppose his views, should be ironed as an inciter of riot and placed
under guard. Knowing the feeling of veneration, almost of awe, with
which Davies was regarded by many of the Indians, he desired to avail
himself of the fact and send him to make the arrest, and at last Davies
asserted himself. Calmly, but positively, he refused. "My orders are
simply to protect the agency and the agent and his family from attack,"
said he, "not to act as the agent's police."

"Do you refuse to obey my orders?" asked McPhail, angrily.

"You are not empowered to give me any orders, Mr. McPhail,--above all,
such orders. It is no question of obedience or disobedience."

"Then I'll ask to have you relieved and sent to your regiment, and some
man sent here who will do his duty," said McPhail.

"You cannot do it too soon, sir," was the answer. "It has been most
unwelcome from the start, and I shall now ask to be relieved in any
event."

And so, finding Davies inflexible, Mr. McPhail had no alternative but to
go himself. He had sent his demand; it had met with no response. He must
attempt the arrest in person or become the laughing-stock of his Indian
wards. Here at last Davies had to back him. It might be true that the
officer would be sustained in his refusal to go and do his bidding, but
if the agent went in person the lieutenant would have to send a
detachment as a guard. Davies did more. He calmly informed McPhail that
he should place himself at the head of the party and protect him to the
extent of his ability; and so with the detachment as it marched away,
watched by many an anxious eye, rode McPhail with his agency
interpreter.

And when barely half-way to the cluster of tepees among the Cottonwoods
at the point, there came to meet them in solitary state old Thunder Hawk
himself. He wore no barbaric finery. His pony was destitute of
trappings. He, himself, wore not even a revolver. Everything that might
speak of war or even self-defence was left behind. When within a hundred
yards of the foremost horsemen he reined in his pony and calmly awaited
their approach.

Half a mile farther down the valley, clustered in front of their
lodges, some of them lashing about on their excited ponies, could be
plainly seen the warriors of R