Four days’ ride brought them home to the Blackfoot camp, but Bull’s Head got there first, and whined about his poverty until Wolverine gave him ten ponies, also the captured gun. It was not much to pay for a beautiful woman who became a faithful and loving wife. One day news reached the three main camps of the Blackfoot nation that a white buffalo had been sighted in the herds. Midwinter as it was, the hunters turned out, for the man who killed a white buffalo was held to have the especial favor of the Sun, and not only he, but his tribe. The head chief of a nation has been known to use the robe for a seat, but it could never be sold, and at the next building of a temple to the Sun it was offered up as a national sacrifice. Great was the hunting through many days of bitter cold, until at last the white buffalo was found by a lone horseman who brought it down with his arrows “When we rode up,” says Schultz, “the hunter was standing over it, hands raised, fervently praying, promising the Sun the robe and tongue of the animal.... Medicine Weasel was so excited, he trembled so that he could not use his knife ... and some of our party took off the hide for him, and cut out the tongue, he standing over them all the time and begging them to be careful, to make no gashes, for they were doing the work for the Sun. None of the meat was taken. It was considered a sacrilege to eat it; the tongue was to be dried and given to the Sun with the robe.” Only one more white buffalo was ever taken, in 1881, two years before the last herds were destroyed. Heavy Breast and Schultz were once out hunting, and the chief’s saddle was newly loaded with mountain sheep meat, when the hunters met a first-class grizzly bear. He sat up, fifty yards distant and wriggled his nose as he sniffed the air. Both men fired and with a hair-lifting roar old sticky mouth rolled over, biting and clawing his wound, then sprang up and charged, open mouthed. The hunters rode hard, Schultz firing backward a couple of shots while the bear with long bounds, closed upon the Indian. “I fired again, and made another miss and just then Heavy Breast, his saddle and his sheep meat parted company with the fleeing pony. The cinch, an old worn rawhide band, had broken. “‘Hai Ya, my friend,’ he cried pleadingly, as he soared up in the air, still astride the saddle. Down they came with a loud thud not two strides in front of the onrushing bear. And that animal, with a dismayed and frightened ‘woof,’ turned sharply about and fled back toward the timber, I after him. I kept firing and firing, and finally a lucky shot broke his backbone. “‘Do not laugh, my friend,’ said Heavy Breast; ‘surely the Sun listened to my prayer. I promised to sacrifice to him, intending to hang up that fine white blanket I have just bought. I will hang up the blanket and my otter-skin cap.’”