White Wolf threw a white-tanned robe, soft and warm, from a young buffalo-cow, over his shoulders. “Do not forget your father. You did wrong, but your heart was good. Remember that you have been a chief’s son. Always bear yourself like a warrior. To a warrior, heat and cold and thirst and hunger are nothing. A brave man lives, while a coward dies. Now go.” “Come,” said Baroney. The stocky soldier smiled brightly. With never a backward glance they galloped out of the town, into the south and on. Baroney began to lead. With the horse in tow, the soldier slackened, to ride alongside Scar Head. He grinned, and spoke. “Hello,” he said, again. “H’lo,” responded Scar Head. The soldier rubbed his nose, as if figuring upon what to say next. “American, you?” he queried. Scar Head caught the word, and nodded. The soldier spoke farther, with another question. “He asks your name,” called back Baroney. “I will tell him. His name is Sparks. He is a good man. They are all good men. You will be happy with the Americans.” “Sparks!” That was a simple name and a good one, because it fitted. Fire might be his medicine; the stiff bright hairs of his face were the red sparks, shooting out. The American chief had camped at only a short distance from the Pawnee town, waiting on peace or war. There were shouts of welcome, for Baroney and Sparks, and many curious gazes for Scar Head. He rode proudly, on his yellow pony, with his warrior’s bow and arrows, his chief-beaded moccasins, his bracelet and his white cow-robe. He was no longer afraid of the Americans. Baroney took him on to Chief Pike, who was standing beside his saddled horse. The camp lodges had been struck, the Americans were ready to march. Baroney explained to the young chief. Chief Pike listened――he nodded, and spoke, and with a smile reached to shake Scar Head’s hand. The medicine man also spoke, and smiled, and shook hands. The young second chief came and did the same. Then they got on their horses. “It is well,” said Baroney to Scar Head. “You will ride in front, with the chiefs.” “Where do we go?” “We go to the mountains, and to find the Ietans.” Scar Head said nothing, to that. It was a long way, and the danger way, but he was with braves who seemed to feel no fears. They appeared to know what they were about. Chief Pike shouted a command and led out. The second chief repeated the command, and turned in his saddle to see that it was obeyed; then he galloped to the fore. The two chiefs rode first, side by side. Baroney signed, and Scar Head found himself between Baroney and the medicine-man. Four Osages, still――Chief Pretty Bird, two warriors and a woman――followed. The American warriors trudged after, two by two, in a column, with the extra horses bearing packs.