thus religiously enjoined upon these
ten men. It meant at the least several days and nights of wandering
in search of signs of the wily buffalo. It was a public duty, and a
personal one as well; one that must involve untold hardship; and if
overtaken by storm the messengers were in peril of death!

Anookasan returned to his teepee with some misgiving. His old charger,
which had so often carried him to victory, was not so strong as he had
been in his prime. As his master approached the lodge the old horse
welcomed him with a gentle whinny. He was always tethered near by, ready
for any emergency.

"Ah, Wakan! we are once more called upon to do duty! We shall set out
before daybreak."

As he spoke, he pushed nearer a few strips of the poplar bark, which was
oats to the Indian pony of the olden time.

Anookasan had his extra pair of buffaloskin moccasins with the hair
inside, and his scanty provision of dried meat neatly done up in a
small packet and fastened to his saddle. With his companions he started
northward, up the River of the Gray Woods, five on the east side and a
like number on the west.

The party had separated each morning, so as to cover as much ground as
possible, having agreed to return at night to the river. It was now the
third day; their food was all but gone, their steeds much worn, and the
signs seemed to indicate a storm. Yet the hunger of their friends and
their own pride impelled them to persist, for out of many young men
they had been chosen, therefore they must prove themselves equal to the
occasion.

The sun, now well toward the western horizon, cast over snow-covered
plains a purplish light. No living creature was in sight and the quest
seemed hopeless, but Anookasan was not one to accept defeat.

"There may be an outlook from yonder hill which will turn failure into
success," he thought, as he dug his heels into the sides of his faithful
nag. At the same time he started a "Strong Heart" song to keep his
courage up!

At the summit of the ascent he paused and gazed steadily before him. At
the foot of the next coteau he beheld a strip of black. He strained his
eyes to look, for the sun had already set behind the hilltops. It was
a great herd of buffaloes, he thought, which was grazing on the
foot-hills.

"Hi hi, uncheedah! Hi, hi, tunkasheedah!" he was about to exclaim in
gratitude, when, looking more closely, he discovered his mistake. The
dark patch was only timber.

His horse could