eader. He was a natural actor, and early showed marked ability as a
speaker.

American Horse was about ten years old when he was attacked by three
Crow warriors, while driving a herd of ponies to water. Here he
displayed native cunning and initiative. It seemed he had scarcely a
chance to escape, for the enemy was near. He yelled frantically at the
ponies to start them toward home, while he dropped off into a thicket
of willows and hid there. A part of the herd was caught in sight of
the camp and there was a counter chase, but the Crows got away with the
ponies. Of course his mother was frantic, believing her boy had been
killed or captured; but after the excitement was over, he appeared in
camp unhurt. When questioned about his escape, he remarked: "I knew they
would not take the time to hunt for small game when there was so much
bigger close by."

When he was quite a big boy, he joined in a buffalo hunt, and on the way
back with the rest of the hunters his mule became unmanageable. American
Horse had insisted on riding him in addition to a heavy load of meat and
skins, and the animal evidently resented this, for he suddenly began to
run and kick, scattering fresh meat along the road, to the merriment of
the crowd. But the boy turned actor, and made it appear that it was at
his wish the mule had given this diverting performance. He clung to the
back of his plunging and braying mount like a circus rider, singing a
Brave Heart song, and finally brought up amid the laughter and cheers
of his companions. Far from admitting defeat, he boasted of his
horsemanship and declared that his "brother" the donkey would put any
enemy to flight, and that they should be called upon to lead a charge.

It was several years later that he went to sleep early one night and
slept soundly, having been scouting for two nights previous. It happened
that there was a raid by the Crows, and when he awoke in the midst of
the yelling and confusion, he sprang up and attempted to join in the
fighting. Everybody knew his voice in all the din, so when he fired his
gun and announced a coup, as was the custom, others rushed to the spot,
to find that he had shot a hobbled pony belonging to their own camp.
The laugh was on him, and he never recovered from his chagrin at this
mistake. In fact, although he was undoubtedly fearless and tried hard to
distinguish himself in warfare, he did not succeed.

It is told of him that he once went with a war party of