r of
the warriors, as well as the women. Even the ponies picked up
their heads, as if they, too, saw rest.

The procession wound round the base of a hill, and then each boy
uttered a little gasp. Before them lay a valley, about a mile
wide, down the center of which flowed a shallow yellow river
fringed with trees and also with undergrowth, very dense in
places. But it was neither the river nor trees that had drawn
the little gasps from the two boys, it was an Indian village, or
rather a great town, extending as far as they could see--and
they saw far--on either side of the stream. There were hundreds
and hundreds of lodges, and a vast scene of animated and varied
life. Warriors, squaws, children, and dogs moved about; smoke
rose from scores and scores of fires, and on grassy meadows
grazed ponies, thousands in number.

"Why, I didn't think there was so big an Indian town in all the
West!" exclaimed Albert.

"Nor did I," said Dick gravely, "and I'm thinking, Al, that it's
gathered here for a purpose. It must be made up of all the Sioux
tribes."

Albert nodded. He knew the thought in Dick's mind, and he
believed it to be correct.

Chance so had it that Bright Sun at this moment rode near them
and heard their words. Dick of late had surmised shrewdly that
Bright Sun treated them well, not alone for the sake of their
value as hostages, but for a reason personal to himself. He had
been associated long with white people in their schools, but he
was at heart and in fact a great Sioux chief; he had felt the
white man's assumption of racial superiority, and he would have
these two with the white faces witness some great triumph that he
intended to achieve over these same white people. This belief
was growing on Dick, and it received more confirmation when
Bright Sun said:

"You see that the Sioux nation has many warriors and is mighty."

"I see that it is so, Bright Sun," replied Dick frankly. "I did
not know you were so numerous and so powerful; but bear in mind,
Bright Sun, that no matter how many the Sioux may be, the white
men are like the leaves of the tree--thousands, tens of
thousands may fall, and yet only their own kin miss them."

But Bright Sun shook his head.

"What you say is true," he said, "because I have seen and I know;
but they are not here. The mountains, the plains, the wilderness
keep them back."

Dick forebore a retort, because he felt that he owed Bright Sun
something, and the