ook by the spring, and so by and by through the camp of the
starving Nez Perces. On she went until, right in the middle of the camp
and among the lodges, she stumbled and fell, and One-eye had her by the
throat.

It was time for somebody to wake up and do something, and a
wiry-looking, undersized, lean-ribbed old warrior, with an immense head,
whose bow and arrows had been hanging near him, at once rushed forward
and began to make a sort of pin-cushion of that cow. He twanged arrow
after arrow into her, yelling ferociously, and was just turning away to
get his lance when a robust squaw, who had not been made very thin even
by starvation, caught him by the arm, screeching,

"Dead five times! What for kill any more?"

She held up a plump hand as she spoke, and spread her brown fingers
almost against his nose. There was no denying it, but the victorious
hunter at once struck an attitude and exclaimed,

"No starve now, Big Tongue!"

He had saved the whole band from ruin and he went on to say as much,
while the warriors and squaws and smaller Indians crowded around the
game so wonderfully brought within a few yards of their kettles. It was
a grand occasion, and the Big Tongue was entitled to the everlasting
gratitude of his nation quite as much as are a great many white
statesmen and kings and generals who claim and in a manner get it. All
went well with him until a gray-headed old warrior, who was examining
the several arrows projecting from the side of the dead bison, came to
one over which he paused thoughtfully. Then he raised his head, put his
hand to his mouth, and sent forth a wild whoop of delight. He drew out
the arrow with one sharp tug and held it up to the gaze of all.

"Not Big Tongue. Boy!" For he was the father of the young hero who had
faithfully stood up against hunger and despair and had gone for game to
the very last. He was a proud old chief and father that day, and all
that was left for the Big Tongue was to recover his own arrows as fast
as he could for future use, while the squaws cut up the cow. They did it
with a haste and skill quite remarkable, considering how nearly dead
they all were. The prospect of a good dinner seemed to put new life into
them, and they plied their knives in half a dozen places at the same
time.

One-eye sat down and howled for a moment, and then started off upon the
trail by which he had come.

"Boy!" shouted the old chief. "All come. See what."

Several braves and