ined look approached their foe like two panthers
prepared to spring; yet he neither slackened his speed nor deviated
from his course. A crash--a mighty shout!--the two Kaposias collided,
and the swift Antelope had won the laurels!

The turmoil and commotion at the victors' camp were indescribable. A
few beats of a drum were heard, after which the criers hurried along
the lines, announcing the last act to be performed at the camp of the
"Leaf Dwellers."

The day had been a perfect one. Every event had been a success; and, as
a matter of course, the old people were happy, for they largely
profited by these occasions. Within the circle formed by the general
assembly sat in a group the members of the common council. Blue Earth
arose, and in a few appropriate and courteous remarks assured his
guests that it was not selfishness that led his braves to carry off the
honors of the last event, but that this was a friendly contest in which
each band must assert its prowess. In memory of this victory, the boy
would now receive his name. A loud "Ho-o-o" of approbation reverberated
from the edge of the forest upon the Minnesota's bank.

Half frightened, the little fellow was now brought into the circle,
looking very much as if he were about to be executed. Cheer after cheer
went up for the awe-stricken boy. Chankpee-yuhah, the medicine-man,
proceeded to confer the name.

"Ohiyesa (or Winner) shall be thy name henceforth. Be brave, be patient
and thou shalt always win! Thy name is Ohiyesa."

IV

THE FAITHFULNESS OF LONG EARS

Away beyond the Thin Hills, above the Big Lone Tree upon the Powder
river, the Uncpapa Sioux had celebrated their Sun Dance, some forty
years ago. It was midsummer and the red folk were happy. They lacked
for nothing. The yellowish green flat on either side of the Powder was
studded with wild flowers, and the cottonwood trees were in full leaf.
One large circle of buffalo-skin teepees formed the movable village.

The tribal rites had all been observed, and the usual summer
festivities enjoyed to the full. The camp as it broke up divided itself
in three parts, each of which had determined to seek a favorite
hunting-ground.

One band journeyed west, toward the Tongue river. One followed a
tributary of the Powder to the south. The third merely changed camp, on
account of the grazing for ponies, and for four days remained near the
old place.

The party that went west did not fail to realize the p