young squaw, to the elder. "See? The ground is only little trampled."
"If you want to know where it came from," continued the old squaw, to Scar Head, "you should trail it back, instead of asking silly questions."
"Yes, and get into trouble. A gift is a gift, and not to be doubted," the young squaw added.
At this, Scar Head ran off, to the river, for his morning swim. When he returned, Chief Charakterik and the American soldier were up and out, too, and surveying the horse.
"Do you know where this horse came from?" White Wolf questioned, of his wives.
"No. It was here. That is all."
"The man who stole the horse from the Americans has returned it," declared White Wolf, "Good. Is this the horse you are waiting for?" he asked, of the soldier.
The soldier did not understand the words, but he understood the gesture. Now he smiled and replied in his own language—which nobody else understood. But he nodded and pointed to the horse and in the direction of the Americans; and they all understood that.
"After you have eaten, you may take the horse and go your way," White Wolf bade, well satisfied.
So the matter seemed to be settled; but some-
