ve been sick.'
The change in his speech was even more noticeable when he turned
his tongue to English. He halted over his words and he mouthed them
hesitatingly.

"'Yes, pretty sick. And you, what are you doing?'

"'I do what the rest do,' said he. 'Nothing! I have some horses and a
few head of cattle, that is all.'

"'Are you satisfied?' I demanded, sharply. He eyed me darkly for an
instant, then he answered, slowly:

"'I am an Indian. I am satisfied.'

"'Then education didn't do you any good, after all?' I was offended,
disappointed; I must have spoken gruffly.

"This time he paused a long while before he replied.

"'I had dreams,' said he, 'many dreams, and they were splendid; but
you told me that dreams were out of place in a Sioux, so I forgot
them, along with all the things I had learned. It is better so.'

"Alicia Harman called me in a voice which I did not recognize, so I
shook hands with Running Elk and turned away. He bowed his head and
slunk back through the tepee door, back into the heart of his people,
back into the past, and with him went my experiment. Since then I have
never meddled with the gods nor given them cause to laugh at me."

The doctor arose and stretched himself, then he entered his tent for
a match. The melancholy pulse of the drums and the minor-keyed chant
which issued out of the night sounded like a dirge sung by a dying
people.

"What became of Running Elk?" I inquired.

The old man answered from within. "That was he I asked about the
horse-races. He's the man you couldn't understand, who wouldn't talk
to you. He's nearly an Indian again. Alicia Harman married a duke."

THE MOON, THE MAID, AND THE WINGED SHOES

The last place I locked wheels with Mike Butters was in Idaho. I'd
just sold a silver-lead prospect and was proclaimin' my prosperity
with soundin' brass and ticklin' symbols. I was tuned up to G and
singin' quartettes with the bartender--opery buffet, so to speak--when
in Mike walked. It was a bright morning out-side and I didn't
reco'nize him at first against the sunlight.

"Where's that cholera-morbus case?" said he.

"Stranger, them ain't sounds of cramps," I told him. "It's me singin'
'Hell Amongst the Yearlin's.'" Then I seen who he was and I fell among
him.

When we'd abated ourselves I looked him over.

"What you doin' in all them good clothes?" I inquired.

"I'm a D.D.S."

"Do tell! All I ever took was the first three degrees. Gimme the gri