se. Any one might see that he had only a few hours to
live, and that soon his comrades would be carrying only a body across
the Staked Plain, where the sun beat hotly and water was far apart.

It was better that they leave him here, at the spring where they might
find his bones. So on the water's edge they built a shade for Konate,
with a few crooked cedar branches, and bidding him goodby they rode on,
into the great Staked Plain.

They expected that they would never seen him again.

What happened now to Konate, he often told, and he told it always the
same; therefore it must be true. For the rest of the long day he lay
there, with the sun beating down around him, and his mind and body very
sick from his wound. He was unable to sleep. The sun set, and the air
changed to cool, the twilight deepened to dusk; alone on his hilltop he
closed his eyes, and waited for the spirit of the tai-me, or Sun-dance
medicine, to bear him to his fathers.

In the star-light he heard a wolf howl, far off. He listened, and the
howl sounded again, nearer, from another direction. Then he knew that
the wolf had scented him and was ranging to find his spot. That would
be bad--to be eaten by a wolf and have one's bones scattered!

Konate groaned. His heart had been strong, until this moment. He had
hoped that his bones would be cared for.

Soon he heard the wolf, at hand; there was the soft patter of its pads,
and the sniffing of its inquiring nose, seeking him out. And now he
saw the wolf, with shining eyes peering into the bough shelter where he
lay helpless, unable even to speak.

That was an agonizing moment, for Konate. But lo, instead of jumping
upon him, the wolf trotted forward, and gently licked his wounds, and
then lay quietly down beside him.

Konate was amazed and thankful. While the wolf lay there, next he
heard another sound, in the distance: the shrill eagle-bone-whistle
music of the great Sun-dance of the Kiowa nation. The music drew
nearer, and he heard the Sun-dance song; and while he listened, strong
of heart again, he saw the medicine spirit of the Sun-dance standing
before him, at the entrance to the shelter.

"I pity you and shall not let you die," said the medicine spirit. "You
shall see your home and friends."

Then the medicine spirit brought down a rain, to wash Konate's wounds
and cool his fever. The medicine spirit sat with Konate most of the
night, and told him many things: told him how to