On the day of the “Big Issue”, when thousands of Indians were gathered at the agency, this man Little, who had been in hiding, walked boldly among them. Of course the police would arrest him at sight, and he was led toward the guardhouse. He struggled with them, but was overpowered. A crowd of warriors rushed to his rescue, and there was confusion and a general shout of “Hurry up with them! Kill them all!” I saw American Horse walk out of the agent’s office and calmly face the excited mob. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “Stop, men, stop and think before you act! Will you murder your children, your women, yes, destroy your nation to-day?” He stood before them like a statue and the men who held the two policemen helpless paused for an instant. He went on: “You are brave to-day because you outnumber the white men, but what will you do to-morrow? There are railroads on all sides of you. The soldiers will pour in from every direction by thousands and surround you. You have little food or ammunition. It will be the end of your people. Stop, I say, stop now!” Jack Red Cloud, son of the old chief rushed up to him and thrust a revolver almost in his face. “It is you and men like you,” he shouted, “who have reduced our race to slavery and starvation!” American Horse did not flinch but deliberately reentered the office, followed by Jack still flourishing the pistol. But his timely appearance and eloquence had saved the day. Others of the police force had time to reach the spot, and with a large crowd of friendly Indians had taken command of the situation. When I went into the office I found him alone but apparently quite calm. “Where are the agent and the clerks?” I asked. “They fled by the back door,” he replied, smiling. “I think they are in the cellar. These fools outside had almost caught us asleep, but I think it is over now.” American Horse was one of the earliest advocates of education for the Indian, and his son Samuel and nephew Robert were among the first students at Carlisle. I think one or two of his daughters were the handsomest Indian girls of full blood that I ever saw. His record as a councilor of his people and his policy in the new situation that confronted them was manly and consistent. DULL KNIFE The life of Dull Knife, the Cheyenne, is a true hero tale. Simple, child-like yet manful, and devoid of selfish aims, or love of gain, he is a pattern for heroes of any race.