seen an' done a good deal, an' had a few
adventures," Rube concluded, holding himself so that Kiddie might apply
a fresh pad of lint and a new bandage to his wounded cheek.

Kiddie left the head-dress and other garments where Simon Sprott had
placed them. But in the early morning Rube Carter awoke to see him
wearing the doeskin robe and moccasins, and in the act of covering his
head with the great war bonnet.

"What, changed your mind?" cried Rube. "Goin' ter be a chief after
all?"

Kiddie did not answer. He had got the two long feathered streamers of
the head-dress twisted behind his back, and was trying to disentangle
without injuring them.

"Get dressed and go outside to watch the ceremony," he ordered.
"There's a couch of buffalo robes near the door, and you won't need to
limp very far."

When Rube went out, he found the open space in front of the principal
lodges crowded with warriors and braves. They were all on foot, but
half a dozen of them held as many chosen war horses, which were to be
presented to the new chief. The war-chiefs and medicine men were
seated by the totem pole in a half-circle, facing the crowd.

Suddenly they rose to their feet, and bowed as Kiddie strode forth from
his lodge, looking extremely tall and dignified and handsome in his
picturesque Indian dress.

Murmurs of admiration ran through the throng of waiting braves. Drums
were beaten and minstrels gang a weird, crooning chant as he advanced.

Rube's gaze was fastened upon Kiddie. He would not have understood,
even if he had listened to what Simon Sprott said to the Crows. He
supposed that it was merely a public declaration of the election of
Little Cayuse as successor to Falling Water. For at the close of
Simon's speech there was a prolonged hubbub of acclamation.

Kiddie then strode forward, with his left hand clasping the staff of
office, the morning sunlight shining on his face and on the pure white
plumes of his magnificent head-dress. He spoke to the Crows in their
own tongue, in a clear, loud voice.

[Illustration: He spoke to the Crows in their own tongue.]

"Warriors, braves," he said, "Little Cayuse is proud that the Crows
have asked him to be their war chief. The Crows are a mighty nation,
rich in horses and in buffalo robes. They love peace, but they do not
fear war. It is a great thing to be their chief, to make their laws,
to lead them in battle. Little Cayuse is glad that they think him
worthy to