e I gave you that load," said Weeko in a conciliatory
tone, and patted her on the nose. "Come, now, you shall have your own
pet pack," and she led her back to where the young pony stood silently
with the babies.

Nakpa threw back her ears and cast savage looks at him, while Shunkaska,
with no small annoyance, gathered together as much as he could of their
scattered household effects. The sleeping brown-skinned babies in
their chrysalis-like hoods were gently lowered from the pony's back and
attached securely to Nakpa's padded wooden saddle. The family pots and
kettles were divided among the pack ponies. Order was restored and the
village once more in motion.

"Come now, Nakpa; you have your wish. You must take good care of my
babies. Be good, because I have trusted you," murmured the young mother
in her softest tones.

"Really, Weeko, you have some common ground with Nakpa, for you both
always want to have your own way, and stick to it, too! I tell you, I
fear this Long Ears. She is not to be trusted with babies," remarked
Shunkaska, with a good deal of severity. But his wife made no reply, for
she well knew that though he might criticise, he would not actually
interfere with her domestic arrangements.

He now started ahead to join the men in advance of the slow-moving
procession, thus leaving her in undivided charge of her household. One
or two of the pack ponies were not well-trained and required all her
attention. Nakpa had been a faithful servant until her escapade of
the morning, and she was now obviously satisfied with her mistress'
arrangements. She walked alongside with her lariat dragging, and
perfectly free to do as she pleased.

Some hours later, the party ascended a slope from the river bottom to
cross over the divide which lay between the Powder River and a tributary
stream. They had hitherto followed that river in a westerly direction,
but here it took its course southward, winding in a blue streak until
lost to view among the foot-hills of the Big Horn Mountains. The ford
was deep, with a swift current. Here and there a bald butte stood out
in full relief against the brilliant blue sky. The Sioux followed a deep
ravine until they came almost up to the second row of terraces.

"Whoo! whoo!" came the blood-curdling signal of danger from the front.
It was no unfamiliar sound--the rovers knew it only too well. It meant
sudden death--or at best a cruel struggle and frantic flight.

Terrified, yet self-