us prosperity, as you say, we will like it all the better. But if it brings us good or ill, we will not abandon it. When I make a peace, it is a long and lasting peace. I have spoken.” When Satanta had finished, a murmur of approval, in satisfied grunts, arose from the other Indians; and even the officers exchanged words of admiration. Satanta had made a great speech. “Tell him,” quoth General Hancock, to Romeo, “that we have heard, and are glad to know that he is our friend. We do not come in war, but in peace. Tell him that in token of our friendship we give him the uniform of a great white chief.” At a sign by the general another officer brought forward, to Satanta, the coat and sash and hat of a major-general. They were of a style that had been changed by later regulations but this made no difference to Satanta, who seemed much pleased with the epaulets and the double row of brass buttons, and the red silk sash, and the cocked hat adorned by a black curling plume. He immediately donned the new rig, to strut about, bare-legged, in it, dragging his sabre. Presently he and all his braves, after procuring what they could at the fort, took the trail whence they had come. “That, gentlemen, was a marvelous speech. It would be a credit to a white man,” commented General Hancock, impressively, to the assembled audience. “I’ve known Satanta or White Bear ever since I was a small boy and followed my father about, out here on the plains,” said Colonel Leavenworth. “I regard him as the greatest Indian. He lives in style at his tipi. Has a brass horn that he blows for meals, and a carpet, and brass-studded lapboards to eat from.” “In my opinion Satanta is a rascal, gentlemen,” spoke quietly Wild Bill. “Nobody can deny that he makes a big talk; but deeds count, in this country—and if that fellow doesn’t make more trouble, at his first chance, I don’t know Injuns. He’s smart, and he’s crooked as a prairie dog burrow.” Ned kept his eyes open for the figure of Pawnee Killer. He hoped that Pawnee Killer would visit, from the village, and might be made to tell General Hancock or General Custer where his, Ned’s, sister was. “No Injuns will come in till the tenth,” asserted Sergeant Kennedy. “’Tisn’t Injun etiquette to appear before the date of the council.” “The infarnal rascals may not come anyhow,” declared California Joe, wagging his head. “They’re the onsartinest liars that ever was created. But we’re goin’ to have our hands full without ’em, for some sort of a pesky storm is breedin’. Do ye mark how geese are flyin’ south, ’stead o’ north? Mebbe they think it’s fall ’stead o’ spring; but I never ketched wild honkers bein’ mistook on dates.” The day was warm and sunny—almost too warm. The evening stayed clear, while the camp peacefully slept, but the morning dawned with a haze and a chill wind from the north. Speedily the haze thickened, the wind grew colder; and before breakfast was over the snow was sifting faster and faster.