He turned painfully on his side, groaned, shut his eyes, and opened them again to see a tall warrior standing over him, gazing down at him with a cynical look. He was instantly ashamed that he had groaned and said in apology: "It was pain of the spirit and not of the body that caused me to make lament." "It must be so," replied the warrior in English, "because you have come back to the world much quicker than we believed possible. The vital forces in you are strong." He spoke like an educated Indian, but his face, his manner and his whole appearance were those of the typical wild man. "I see that I'm at least alive," said Will with a faint touch of humor, "though I can scarcely describe my condition as cheerful. Who are you?" "I am Heraka, a Sioux chief. Heraka in your language means the Elk, and I am proud of the name." Will looked again at him, and much more closely now, because, despite his condition, he was impressed by the manner and appearance. Heraka was a man of middle years, of uncommon height and of a broad, full countenance, the width between the eyes being great. It was a countenance at once dignified, serene and penetrating. He wore brilliantly embroidered moccasins, leggings and waist band, and a long green blanket, harmonizing with the foliage at that period of the year, hung from his shoulders. He carried a rifle and there were other weapons in his belt. Will felt with increasing force that he was in the presence of a great Sioux chief. The Sioux, who were to the West what the Iroquois were to the East, sometimes produced men of high intellectual rank, their development being hampered by time and place. The famous chief, Gall, who planned Custer's defeat, and who led the forces upon the field, had the head of a Jupiter, and Will felt now as he stared up at Heraka that he had never beheld a more imposing figure. The gaze of the man that met his own was stern and denunciatory. The lad felt that he was about to be charged with a great crime, and that the charge would be true. "Why have you come here?" asked the stern warrior. In spite of himself, in spite of his terrible situation, the youth's sense of humor sparkled up a moment. "I don't know why I came here," he replied, "nor do I know how, nor do I know where I am." The chief's gaze flickered a moment, but he replied with little modification of his sternness: "You were brought here on the back of a pony. You are miles from where you were taken, and you are the prisoner of these warriors of the Dakota whom I lead." Will knew well enough that the Sioux called themselves in their own language the Dakota, and that the chief would take a pride in so naming them to him. "The Dakotas are a great nation," he said.