The yellow pony was a fast pony, well trained. He had been stolen from the Comanches, whose horses were the best. Scar Head rode light――a boy in only a buffalo robe. The American horses all were poor horses, even those traded for with the Pawnees, and Chief Pike, in his clothes, weighed twice as much, on the saddle, as Scar Head. The yellow pony over-hauled the Chief Pike horse――crept up, from tail to stirrup, from stirrup to neck, from neck to nose. Scar Head, his moccasined feet thrust into thong loops, clung close. Chief Pike glanced aside at him, with blue eyes glowing, and smiled. “Good meat,” he said, in French. “We two hunt.” “Kill,” answered Scar Head. “Can you kill?” “Yes.” “What with?” “This.” And Scar Head shook his strung bow. Chief Pike laughed. “They are large; you are small. With a gun――yes. With a bow――I think not.” “You will see,” Scar Head promised. His heart was filled with the desire to prove himself to Chief Pike. But he had never killed an elk――nothing larger than a badger; he only knew that it might be done. They raced. The elk were foolish things, and appeared to be thinking more of some danger behind than the danger before. No――now Baroney and the medicine-man had frightened them afresh, for they had swerved, they paralleled the trail, and were scouring on to gain the open. Good riding might head them. The yellow pony knew. He ran like a deer, himself. Chief Pike’s horse lengthened bravely. “Hi! Hi!” Scar Head urged. “Hurrah!” cheered the chief. They were veering in. The band of elk were led by a splendid buck, whose horns branched like a tree. The elk chief ran with his nose out and his horns laid upon his neck, but now and again he shook his head, and his horns tossed. Baroney and the medicine-man were trying to close in, on the rear flank――the medicine-man had shot. Scar Head belabored his pony harder. The wind whistled in his ears, his white robe had dropped about his thighs, he rode with his legs and notched an arrow upon his bow-string. His eyes were upon the elk chief, and he almost lost sight of Chief Pike, although he knew that Pike was thudding close beside him. The reports of the medicine-man and Baroney guns sounded, driving the elk before them. The elk chief saw the two enemies cutting him off before. He recoiled sharply, to turn, but the herd forced him on; they all bunched, confused. This was the chance, and in charged Scar Head, on his yellow pony. “Le grand cerf (The large stag)!” Chief Pike gasped. “Oui (yes)!” answered Scar Head. The herd broke. On bolted the stag, tossing his great horns. After him pelted Scar Head and Chief Pike. It was another chase. But, see! The Pawnees were coming, from before. The chase was leading straight for them, they had seen, and fifty or sixty of their best hunters had galloped in a long line, for a surround.