“For a long time I have borne in silence many things from Bull Plume; but now it is time for me to speak plainly. He told you about the tribal records handed down from his grandfather. He got that information from me. No one knows who his grandfather was. I can remember him as a small boy, barefoot and poor; he walked behind the travois when our tribe moved camp. Not until he became a man did he gather information for the records of which he boasts. He lied to you, but you were not deceived.” For a moment Brings-Down-the-Sun was silent. Then he turned and said earnestly: “I can read a man’s character in his eyes and by the look I see in his face. I now take you for my son. From this time forth, I shall be your Indian father in the north; and the people of my tribe shall be your brothers and sisters. Now I give myself up to you; and will tell you anything you want to know. Your relatives who live far away towards the rising sun, I take as my friends; my heart feels warm towards them; I shake hands with all of them.” Then he pointed reverently towards the sun, which was setting over the mountains, and said: “Behold! Our Father, the Sun. He looks down upon us here together and hears everything we say. I am going to tell you many stories and legends, about our religious ceremonies and ancient customs before the white men came. Before the Sun, I promise to tell you nothing but the truth.” After that, the old chief came regularly to our camp. He had a fine mind and a wonderful memory. He talked day after day and filled my notebooks with information and stories—the way they had been handed down from father to son through many generations of ancestors. CHAPTER XXX BRINGS-DOWN-THE-SUN TELLS ABOUT HIS FATHER When Brings-Down-the-Sun came to our camp the following evening, he took a seat by the fire. For a while he meditated, smoking his everyday pipe in silence, and then he began: “There is a trail we call ‘The Old North Trail.’ It runs along the Rocky Mountains outside the foothills. It is so old no one knows how long it was used. The horse trail and travois tracks were worn deep into the ground by many generations of Indians. “My father told me that this old trail was started ages ago by an Indian tribe coming down from the north; and other tribes followed in their tracks. I have followed the Old North Trail so often I know every mountain, stream, and river of its course. It ran from the Barren Lands in the north to the south country, where people have dark skins and long hair over their faces (Mexico).” By this time it was growing dark and the fire burned low. No one spoke until the silence was broken by the mournful howling of a wolf in the near-by hills. Then Brings-Down-the-Sun continued: “The wolf is our friend and we do him no harm. The Indians have a saying, ‘The gun that shoots a wolf or coyote will never again shoot straight.’