nhood. From his picture you can judge of this for
yourself.

Let us follow his trail. He was no tenderfoot. He never asked a soft
place for himself. He always played the game according to the rules and
to a finish. To be sure, like every other man, he made some mistakes,
but he was an Indian and never acted the coward.

The earliest stories told of his life and doings indicate the spirit of
the man in that of the boy.

When he was only about three years old, the Blackfoot band of Sioux were
on their usual roving hunt, following the buffalo while living their
natural happy life upon the wonderful wide prairies of the Dakotas.

It was the way of every Sioux mother to adjust her household effects
on such dogs and pack ponies as she could muster from day to day, often
lending one or two to accommodate some other woman whose horse or dog
had died, or perhaps had been among those stampeded and carried away by
a raiding band of Crow warriors. On this particular occasion, the mother
of our young Sioux brave, Matohinshda, or Bear-Shedding-His-Hair
(Gall's childhood name), intrusted her boy to an old Eskimo pack dog,
experienced and reliable, except perhaps when unduly excited or very
thirsty.

On the day of removing camp the caravan made its morning march up the
Powder River. Upon the wide table-land the women were busily digging
teepsinna (an edible sweetish root, much used by them) as the moving
village slowly progressed. As usual at such times, the trail was wide.
An old jack rabbit had waited too long in hiding. Now, finding himself
almost surrounded by the mighty plains people, he sprang up suddenly,
his feathery ears conspicuously erect, a dangerous challenge to the dogs
and the people.

A whoop went up. Every dog accepted the challenge. Forgotten were the
bundles, the kits, even the babies they were drawing or carrying. The
chase was on, and the screams of the women reechoed from the opposite
cliffs of the Powder, mingled with the yelps of dogs and the neighing of
horses. The hand of every man was against the daring warrior, the lone
Jack, and the confusion was great.

When the fleeing one cleared the mass of his enemies, he emerged with a
swiftness that commanded respect and gave promise of a determined chase.
Behind him, his pursuers stretched out in a thin line, first the speedy,
unburdened dogs and then the travois dogs headed by the old Eskimo
with his precious freight. The youthful Gall was in a travois, a b