The Indian Slow Foot led the way through the shadowy forest, where only the sighing of the winds in the evergreens overhead and the twitter of birds in the branches could be heard. In that soft, green moss not the sound of a footfall was heard, and after they had passed the moss sprang back into place, leaving no trail. It was damp, and dark, and velvety; pleasing to the eyes and to the feet. Cayuse, who had spent the most of his life on the plains, from Mexico to Montana, had never seen anything like this. It was much as he had pictured the happy hunting ground--cool, and soft, and free from alkali dust, with plenty of dark pools for water and fish, fat antelope to be seen among the trees, where the red men swung and smoked from moon to moon. Far across this beautiful land of trees they at last heard the shouts of children and the barking of dogs. Ten minutes later they came upon a group of tepees and found themselves in an Indian village, where fat and lazy bucks lay smoking and enjoying the plunder taken from the white settlers and supply trains, and stolen from the forts; all this in addition to the bounty of the Great Father at Washington. Preparation seemed to have been made for the two white men, and they were led direct to a tepee, where they proceeded to make themselves at home. Little Cayuse was left bound in the care of a pair of braves, whose only notice of the young Piute was to sneer: “Pai-ute! Ugh!” Little Cayuse disdained to make reply. His captors were the hated Sioux. He could die without a murmur, if they tortured him, but he would not talk to them. In a cleared space where the trees and stumps had been grubbed away, some sort of a dance was being held. Two circles had been formed around a mystery pole. The cowskin drums boomed, and men of deeds composed the inner circle in their war finery and with buffalo-horn dancing clubs. These warriors shook their clubs at the outer circle and repeated their deeds of daring. When this was done the drums boomed again and the warriors of the inner circle marched up to the mystery pole and then suddenly sprang back and danced about it, part going one way and part the other. The drums boomed once more and ceased and the dancing warriors began to chant. After a time these men took seats and the speechmaking began. At the end of each exploit related the drums were pounded furiously. It was a sample day of the way these red men lived in luxury--according to the red man’s notion of luxury--on the loot wrung from the daring white men who were every day pushing the borders of civilization farther toward the setting sun, and opening a vast domain of wealth and happiness then infested by Indians and white pirates of the plains.