way
farther and farther down the valley, and all sorts of happiness seemed
to be before them. Grass, water, nice weather, no masters, no
responsibilities, and plenty of good company among themselves. It was a
time to grow fat, and to think well of the world they lived in.

The wicked old mule had done his work, but he had gained neither name
nor fame by it. He looked sidewise more slyly, whisked his ropy tail
more demurely, and kicked his nearest neighbors more viciously than
ever. Still, all he or they had gained was a vacation; no work to do for
anybody but themselves, but with winter only a few months ahead and with
a certainty that wolves, buzzards, coyotes, cougars, grislies, frost,
snow-storms, and all the other unknown possibilities of the mountain
country were only holding off for a season.

CHAPTER XVI

VISITING

Two Arrows was treated to an excellent breakfast the morning after his
capture. He also saw a white man eat with a knife and fork, and had all
the sugar he wanted for the first time. It was a wonderful morning, and
a very brilliant pair of eyes were drinking in its marvels greedily.

Rifles, pistols, and all that sort of thing were familiar enough to the
young Nez Perce, but he saw new patterns of them and gained tremendous
notions of the wealth and skill of the pale-faces who could make such
weapons.

"Father," said Sile, "I wish he could read. He's a bright fellow."

"Show him everything you have with a picture in it."

There was no fear that Two Arrows would try to run away after that
process began. The printed matter of any sort did not convey to him an
idea; it was so much mud; it meant nothing whatever. The pictures were
another thing, and Sile had provided himself well with illustrated
reading. Two Arrows almost gave up the sullen pride that refused to be
astonished, and Sile began to understand "sign language." At all events
he nearly twisted himself out of shape in an effort to explain to his
captive the nature of ships, cannon, camels, and steam-engines. He felt
as if he were a sort of missionary. At last Judge Parks himself handed
Two Arrows a photograph of an Indian chief, given him at one of the
frontier agencies a few weeks before.

"Ugh! Pawnee!" said Two Arrows.

"I told you so," exclaimed Yellow Pine. "If you showed him dogerrytypes
of every tribe there is, he'd name 'em at sight. Jedge, it's about time
we set out. I've got a mount ready for him."

Jonas more ful