ing for water, it was going to waste
in Indian territory. That area was as peaceful as though the whole
frontier were filled with clear, cool streams.

So Ida Mary and I went to the Indians for help. I presume we should have
gone to the Agency, but we had never seen the government officials in
charge, and we did know our Indians.

We rode over into the little Indian settlement. Rows of buffalo-hide and
canvas wigwams; Indians sitting around on the ground. Men whittling,
doing beadwork, or lounging at ease. Squaws sitting like mummies or
cooking over open fires for which they broke or chopped wood. Young
bucks riding about, horses grazing peacefully, mongrel dogs in
profusion. Children, dirty, unconcerned, playing in the sun. Rows of
meat, fly-covered, drying on the lines.

They were peaceful and unconcerned; the whole settlement had about it
the air of being on a holiday, the lazy aftermath of a holiday.
Remembering the hard labor, the anxiety, the effort and strain and
despair in the white settlement, there was a good deal to be said for
this life, effortless, without responsibility, sprawling in the shade
while others did the work.

It was not before these members of the tribe, however, that we presented
our request. We went before the chief and his council with form and
ceremony. The old chief, dressed in dignified splendor, sat on a stool
in front of his wigwam, a rich Navajo rug under his feet. He had been a
great leader, wise and shrewd in making negotiations for his tribe. He
looked at me and grunted.

I explained at length that I had come to him from the Brule white men
for help. But I got no farther. He threw out his hand in a negative
gesture. The old warriors of the council were resentful, obstinate. They
muttered and shook their heads angrily. No favors to the whites who had
robbed them of their lands!

I sat down beside the chief while I talked to him, and then to other
members of the council--to Porcupine Bear, Little Thunder, Night Pipe.
The Indian demands pomp and ceremony in the transaction of affairs.
These wanted to hold a powwow. But I had no time for ceremony.

The Indians had _minne-cha-lu-za_ (swift-running water). We had none. If
some of the settlers could run stock on their hunting ground where they
could get to water, and if we could have water hauled from their lands,
we would pay.

The old chief sat as immobile and dignified as a king in court. We soon
learned that the Indian horse-