AWAY INTO THE NORTH
As White Otter and Sun Bird came from the lodge at dawn they found a boy waiting with a fiery little piebald pony.
"Curly Horse has sent you this pony," said the lad, as he passed the lariat to White Otter.
"Tell the great chief Curly Horse that White Otter feels good about this thing," said the Ogalala.
"I know that pony," Sun Bird told him. "It is very fast, but it is very wild. You must watch out for it."
"I will ride it," White Otter assured him.
He was no sooner upon its back, however, than the hot-tempered little beast began to rear and plunge in a manner that would have proved disastrous to a less expert rider. White Otter, however, refused to be thrown, and Sun Bird whooped with boyish glee as he capered wildly about the rearing pony and shouted encouragement to his friend. His shouts soon brought an appreciative audience from the lodges, and White Otter realized that his reputation as a horseman was at stake. He set his sinewy thighs more closely behind the shoulders of the plunging piebald, and pulled hard on the lariat which was twisted about the animal's lower jaw. The Minneconjoux soon saw that he was an expert, and they offered neither criticism nor advice. They watched with flashing eyes as horse and rider fought for supremacy. Then the pony suddenly whirled about and dashed among them, and they scattered like a covey of frightened quail to avoid the flying hoofs. The piebald bucked its way through the center of the camp, with a great company of men and boys racing along behind it and yelling at the top of their voices. Some women were broiling meat near the end of the village, and as they heard the wild commotion, and saw the pony racing directly toward them, they fled to the lodges in a panic, crying out that the Blackfeet had invaded the camp.
In the meantime the piebald had collided with a number of other high-spirited ponies which were tied before the lodges of their owners, and several of the animals broke loose and imitated the mad antics of the piebald. In a few moments the entire camp was in an uproar. The barking of the dogs, the shouts of the men, the screams of the women, and the frightened cries of the children mingled in one great din which turned the village into bedlam.
"It is bad," cried Curly Horse, as he watched the disorder from the entrance to his lodge. "Some Evil Spirit must have gone into that horse."
The piebald, however, had finally exhausted itself. It stood upon trembling legs at the edge of the camp, with its head lowered in defeat. White Otter reached over, and gently stroked the sweaty neck. Then he raised its head and spoke sharply, and the piebald gave obedience to its master. He rode directly to the lodge of Curly Horse.