“The great Tumult and Mahaska,” the chief began, “are friends now. Mahaska was concealed in the brush there, when the white men come here to talk. He heard them speak well of the Sioux, and bad of the Arapaho and his white ally. The words of the great scout were words of wisdom and truth, and they have sunk deep into the breast of Mahaska. He will never forget them, and here offers to smoke the pipe of peace with the great Tumult and his friend.” “That’s business, chief,” replied Tumult, with a sly wink at Town.; “bring on your pipe o’ peace, and a ‘bottle o’ friendship,’ if ye’ve got it. I promise that my people will never harm the Sioux, if the Sioux will keep on his side o’ the creek, and furever bury the hatchet o’ discord and enmity.” “Mahaska pledges the friendship of his people.” “Then my people will not harm the Sioux. They seek the good will o’ all. But they are brave and will give blow fur blow. When the Sioux attacks, the white will defend.” As the scout concluded, Mahaska gave utterance to a low, peculiar chirrup, when there was heard a dull fluttering like many wings, and the next instant fully three score Indian warriors burst from the forest shadows and gathered around our friends and their chief. A chill of distrust passed over our friends at sight of the painted and plumed warriors, but they allowed no look to betray their inward emotion to the red-skins. Mahaska made a brief speech to his warriors and informed them that they were about to smoke the pipe of peace with the whites. This bit of news was received with a savage yell that jarred very discordantly upon the tympanum of our friends. Old Tumult nudged Town. and grinned “broadly.” A circle was now formed. Mahaska drew from a greasy tobacco-pouch a large, dirty calumet which he loaded and lit. He then took a few whiffs, and handed it to Old Tumult, who, in a turn, “drew” very lightly on the obnoxious “seal of peace.” In a few minutes the pipe had “swung around the circle,” and was lodged in its greasy receptacle, and peace between the whites and Sioux was declared. However, Old Tumult knew the Indian’s nature too well to put implicit confidence in him, and he would not have been surprised had they broken their promise of peace ere the obnoxious taste of the “pipe of peace,” was out of his mouth. The warriors now gathered around Old Tumult and gazed upon him with no little curiosity, for in days past, he had been a constant terror to them, and had ornamented his girdle with the scalps of many of their friends. After having discussed various topics incidental to the treaty, Mahaska asked: “Mahaska”--he always spoke of himself in the third person--“heard the great Tumult say that the young white ranger was in league with the Arapaho. He spoke the truth. The ranger is the friend of the Arapaho--the enemy of the Sioux and the pale-face.” “How does Mahaska know?” questioned the scout.