Swish--Whirr! The fierce blast shrieked around the lonely cabin. Its inmates having partially quieted the dog, were listening intently. Nothing could they hear beyond the booming of the tempest, which, unheeded in their conversation, had burst upon them with redoubled force. "Only a grizzly that he hears," said Vipan, in a low tone. "No red would be out to-night." Scarcely had he spoken than the loud, long-drawn howl of a wolf sounded forth, so near as to seem at their very door. Then the hoof-strokes of an unshod horse, and a light tap against the strong framework. "It's all straight. I thought I knew the yelp," said the scout. Then he unhesitatingly slid back the strong iron bolts which secured the door, and admitted a single Indian. The new comer was a tall, martial-looking young warrior, who, as he slid down the snow-besprinkled and gaudy-coloured blanket which had enshrouded his head, stood before them in the ordinary Indian dress. The collar of his tunic was of bears' claws, and among the scalp-locks which fringed his leggings were several of silky fair hair. But for three thin lines of crimson crossing his face, and a vertical one from forehead to throat, he wore no paint, and from his scalp-lock dangled three long eagle-feathers stained black, their ends being gathered into tufts dyed a bright vermilion. For arms he carried a short bow, highly ornamented, and a quiver of wolfskin, the latter adorned with the grinning jaws of its original owner, and in his belt a revolver and bowie knife. This warlike personage advanced to Smokestack Bill, and shook him by the hand effusively. Then, turning to Vipan, he broke into a broad grin and ejaculated-- "Hello, George!" He thus unceremoniously addressed made no reply, but a cold, contemptuous look came into his eyes. Then he quietly said:-- "Do the Ogallalla dance the Sun-Dance [Note 1] in winter?" "Ha!" said the Indian, emphatically, grasping at once the other's meaning. "When I was lost in the Ogallalla villages, all the _warriors_ knew me," went on Vipan, scathingly. "There may have been _boys_ who have become warriors since." "Ha!" The Indian was not a little astonished. This white man spoke the Dahcotah language fluently. He was also not a little angry, and his eyes flashed. "You are not of the race of those around us," he said, "not of the race of The Beaver," turning to the scout. "Your great chief is George." "Don't get mad, Vipan," said Smokestack Bill, hastening to explain. "He only means that you're an Englishman. It'll take generations to get out of these fellers' heads that Englishmen are still ruled by King George." Vipan laughed drily. He had given this cheeky young buck an appropriate setting down. Whether or no it was taken in good part was a matter of indifference to him.