Sile was proud of his fish, and tenfold prouder of his bear, but the proudest person in the mining-camp that morning was Na-tee-kah. Her wonderful brother had earned some more glory. The next proudest being was probably Ha-ha-pah-no, and she asked, several times in succession, of both herself and Na-tee-kah, and without any satisfactory answer,
"What Big Tongue say, now? Tell how he caught pony?"
Chapter XX
A FULL CORRAL
Two arrows was a born horseman. About the earliest memory he had was of riding rather than walking. The pony he was now on was one which had carried him many a time. As soon as he had cut and trimmed a very long and serviceable tree-branch all the other ponies and the mules perfectly understood what it was for.
He was in a serious hurry. It was the most important affair of his life. So far as he could see, the only ponies now missing from the drove were the ones which had not been stampeded, but had remained in camp to be eaten. All the rest had been rescued and kept in good order by the genius and generalship of the wicked old mule. Two Arrows could but wish that a dozen or so of the best dogs had been stampeded at the same time. He rode busily hither and thither, shouting vigorously and lashing his charges away from every tuft of grass they lingered over. He knew exactly where to find his people, and he meant to find them quickly. The distance was nearly the same that had been travelled the day before by the mining party, but the loaded wagons had taken more time upon it than loose ponies would, followed by an excited boy with a long "gad."
The fact that he had eaten no breakfast was one which hardly occurred to Two Arrows, in his eager determination to get his runaways home in the shortest possible order. Once they were headed in the right direction there was but little difficulty in guiding them rightly, and now the old mule took his accustomed place in the advance. It was as if he had repented and was even willing to get some credit for leading his reformed command in the way they should go.
The Nez Percé community had all eaten a good breakfast that morning; there had been no vegetables, to be sure, but not a soul had missed them. With plenty of fish and fresh meat they had all that red Indians expect to be provided with, and they asked for no more. Their kind of human life can be kept a-going upon a very narrow diet. The laziest brave in camp was well fed, but for all that there was a general air of dejection and despondency. Long Bear himself sat in front of his lodge, cross-legged and moody, all the forenoon: his children were away from him, on a visit to the pale-faces; his ponies were away upon another visit, he could not guess with whom; his dogs, with the solitary exception of One-eye, had all visited the camp-kettles. His only remaining consolation seemed to be his pipe, and he was rapidly and extravagantly using up all the tobacco he had obtained from Yellow Pine. The shadow of the mighty maple near him grew shorter until it had little more left to lose and could almost announce the arrival of midday. Just then there arose, at the edge of the woods, a long, ear-piercing howl, followed by such a volley of yelps and barking as can only be fired off by a very remarkable dog. One-eye was informing the camp that something great was drawing near, and was doing his best to make up for the absence of the other dogs.