ife he instantly snatched off the scalp. Then he uttered
the Mandan scalp-halloo, and dived for the door. There he paused, for
just a second, to look back, that the squaw might see his face--and in
the glimmer of fire-light he noted a feather from the lance sticking in
the hole in Wongatap's side.

So back he darted, plucked the feather, and carrying it in his left
hand, that the Great Spirit might help him, he ran hard. Wongatap's
wife was shrieking; all the village heard and answered, and the
warriors streamed out of the lodges.

The whole night Mahtotohpa ran, while the Arikarees vainly searched for
his trail. This day he hid, in the brush along the Missouri River.
The next night he ran again; and on the sixth morning he panted into
the Mandan town, with the dried blood of Wongatap on his lance's blade
and the stiffened scalp of Wongatap hanging to its handle.

So that was why he cherished the lance, and that was why he considered
the loose eagle's feather to be a strong medicine from the Great Spirit.

But this was only Number Six, in the twelve recorded deeds of Four
Bears.

His next-biggest deed was as follows, and it is bigger, according to
white man's way of thinking. By that deed he won his knife.

Early one morning one hundred and fifty Cheyenne warriors attacked the
Mandan town. They took a scalp and many horses before they rode away.
The Mandans had been surprised; but Mahtotohpa rallied fifty warriors
and pursued.

The fifty warriors led by Mahtotohpa pursued for a day and half a day.
At noon they sighted the Cheyennes driving the stolen horses; but the
Cheyennes were so numerous that the Mandan warriors lost their hearts
and wished to turn back.

Not so, Mahtotohpa! He galloped forward alone; he planted his lance in
the earth, to the full length of the blade; and making a circle around
it with his horse he tore from his clothing a strip of red cloth and
hung that to the lance shaft, for a banner.

"If you are cowards, you may go back to the women," he called to his
men. "I stay here, where my lance is firm in the ground."

His men were ashamed, and hesitated. Now the Cheyennes had turned and
were coming for battle. Their chief saw the planted lance of
Mahtotohpa, and Mahtotohpa waiting beside it, and he galloped forward,
alone, on his white horse.

"Who is it that has stuck down his lance, and defies the Cheyennes?" he
shouted.

"I am Mahtotohpa."

"That is good. Mahtotohpa is a