ake a show of it on every fair opportunity.

There was no need, therefore, of throwing away any pity on those who
had been cut by the lances or "barked" by the bullets of the Lipans.
Red Wolf himself had concealed a smart score of a lance-thrust along
his left side, for fear he might be forbidden going on that second
war-path. Even now he refused to consider it as amounting to anything,
and his sister's face glowed with family pride as she said to Rita,

"Red Wolf is a true Apache. He's a warrior already. He will be a
great chief some day. The Knotted Cord is white. He has no scars. He
has never been on a war-path."

She was speaking in her brother's hearing, and Steve was at no great
distance at that very moment, talking, in a low, earnest tone, with
Murray.

Rita replied, "He is young. Send Warning is a warrior--" But Red Wolf
broke in, very honestly, with,

"Knotted Cord is my brother. Only his skin is white. Not his heart.
He is a warrior. He has been on war-paths. He has seen the Lipans,
the Comanches, the Pawnees, the Mexicans. He is not a boy."

Ni-ha-be's little "pet" was blown away by that, and she looked once
more admiringly at the strong and handsome young pale-face. If he had
only been so fortunate as to be born an Apache, what might not have
been expected of him!

The girls had many questions to ask concerning the events of the night
before, and Red Wolf was in an accommodating frame of mind that
morning. It was right, too, in his opinion, that the squaws of his
family should be able to boast among the other squaws of the mighty
doings of their father and brother. That was the way the reputations
of warriors were to be made and kept up, aided now and then by the good
things they might see fit to say about themselves.

In all that there is just this difference between red men and white,
and it would soon disappear with civilization.

That is, when a great white "brave" of any kind does a thing he is
proud of he manages to have the story of it printed in the newspapers,
so that all his boasting is done for him by somebody else.

The Indian "brave" is compelled to be his own newspaper, and tell his
own story of himself. That is all, and it sometimes makes the poor red
man appear to be the vainer of the two, which is a great injustice.

The conversation between Steve and Murray could not be overheard by
their friends, but it must have been of more than a little importance,
to judge