As Will reverted farther and farther into the primitive he retained a virtue which is the product of civilization. He was respectful and helpful to the very old and weak. The percentage of such in the village was much larger than usual, as nearly all the warriors had gone to the war. He invariably took food to the weazened old squaws and the decrepit old men, who presented him with another suit of beautifully decorated deerskin, and a coat of the softest and finest buffalo robe that he had ever seen. "Waditaka big favorite," said Inmutanka when Will showed him the buffalo overcoat. "By and by all old squaws marry him." "What?" exclaimed Will in horror. "Of course," said Inmutanka, grinning slyly. "He make old squaws many presents. Leave venison, buffalo meat, bear meat at doors of their lodges. They marry him in the spring." But Will caught the twinkle in Inmutanka's eyes. "If they propose," he said, "I'll offer good old Dr. Inmutanka in my place. He's nearer their age, and with his medical skill he'll be able to take care of them." "Inmutanka never had a wife. He always what you call in your language bachelor. Too late to change now." "But since you've raised this question I'll insist," said Will formidably. "You've been a bachelor too long, and you a great medical man too. Men are scarce in this village, and you must have at least a dozen wives." "You stop, I stop," said Inmutanka in a tone of entreaty. "Very good, honored foster-father. It's a closed subject forever. I don't think I'd care to have a dozen stepmothers just now." The cold remained intense. Everything was frozen up, but game, nevertheless, still wandered into the valley and the warriors continually hunted it. All their bullets, never in great supply, had been fired away in the battle with the wolves, and they relied now upon bow and arrow. Two of the old warriors, attacking a fierce grizzly with these weapons, were slain by it, and though a party led by Xingudan, with Will as one of his lieutenants, killed the monster, there was mourning in the village for several days. Then it ceased abruptly. The dead were the dead. They had gone to the happy hunting grounds, where in time all must go, and it was foolish and unmanly to mourn so long. Will did not believe that the primitive retain grief as the civilized do. It was a provision to protect those among whom life was so uncertain. A few days later a warrior of the Sioux nation arrived in the valley, suffering from a wound and on the point of death from cold and starvation. He was put in one of the warmest lodges, his wounds were dressed carefully and when he had revived sufficiently he asked for the old chief, Xingudan. "I was hurt in battle with the white men many, many days' journey away," he said, "and the great chief Heraka, knowing I would not be fit for march and fight for a long time, sent me here to recover and he also sent with me a message for you." "What was the message, Roka (Badger)?"