[ELK AND BLUEBIRD.]
BY FRANCES McELRATH.
"Now, look, Bluebird. See how wise the little rough-coat is. Up! Big chief! March!"
Elk accompanied his commands with expressive actions. He waved his hands upwards, threw out his chest, and strutted off along the river-bank. The young bear he was training stood up on his hind legs and comically repeated his movements.
Bluebird clapped her slender brown hands in delighted applause.
Elk gave a short, pleased laugh. He regarded his accomplished pet affectionately. "That's enough for to-night," he said, patting the brown head. "Bluebird," he added, glancing over towards the Cheyenne village among the straggly trees a few rods back from the river, "let's go see what Yellow Stripe's boy is saying to Much Tongue."
A white lad, whom Elk and his sister recognized as the son of a cavalry officer stationed at the adjacent fort, had just ridden up to the Indian camp, and was leaning across a rifle on his knees, talking to Harlow, the interpreter, called by the Cheyennes Much Tongue.
Elk and Bluebird had attended school on the reservation since their people had surrendered to the military authorities, and they understood the white man's language.