The girls were left at the office of the Indian agent near the place where the cattle were to be issued to the Indians. Scattered over the prairie near the agent's office were the members of the tribe, waiting patiently for their portion of the fresh meat, which, at certain times of the year, Uncle Sam doled out to them. It was a savage sight. Here and there were the smoke-browned tepees of the Indians, before which sat the squaws and papooses, and the old men and women. The bucks, heads of families, strode back and forth majestically, with their rifles and old muskets in the hollow of their arms, while the young men and half-grown boys dashed here and there on their ponies. It was an animated scene, and the two girls looked at it curiously, for neither of them had seen anything like it before. While they were looking out of the window a shadow darkened the doorway, and they looked up to see a tall young buck Indian standing on the threshold. He was very tall for a Northern Indian, and his broad, bronze-colored face, with its high cheek bones, and prominent, aquiline nose, with the black, beady eyes between, and the wide, loose-lipped mouth beneath, caused Miss Croffut to shudder unknowingly. To her there was something repulsive about the fellow. But Stella looked at him boldly and inquiringly. "How?" grunted the Indian. "What you want?" asked Stella, in a business-like way. "Me want agent," he answered, with a leer, which evidently he intended for a smile of fascination. "Not here," said Stella sharply. "Where go?" "Get out." The Indian stared at her with an expression of amazement, which gradually turned to one of admiration. "Heap good-looking squaw," he grunted. "Get out," said Stella again. She was not frightened, only disgusted. "Me Running Bear. Heap big chief. Heap rich. Heap brave. Running Bear want white squaw. Heap other wives cook for white squaw. Make plenty red dress." When the Indian had first entered the room Stella thought that there was something decidedly familiar about the redskin, but when the name "Running Bear" fell from his lips, her worst fears were confirmed--this was the Indian with whom Ted had had trouble during the winter, when he had broken up the Whipple gang. As he strode into the middle of the room, with his hand on the butt of the revolver that hung on his left hip, Miss Croffut uttered a faint scream. Stella was not exactly frightened, but she felt that there might be some danger in being in the room with this Indian brute, with not a white man in hailing distance. When he got nearer she smelled liquor. Running Bear had been drinking, and Stella knew that a drinking Indian is a crazy Indian who will do things he never would dream of doing when he is sober. She unconsciously felt for her own revolver, but it was not at her side. Then she remembered that she had left it at the colonel's house when she had started out that morning.