"Yes?" "Well, I took it off again. But, honestly, the finger that had none on at all felt a little hotter, I imagined. I'm sure it did, and I only had two coats on. I know you'll be glad you tried it, and the Indians will never know it's there." "I'm getting just a bit interested," he remarked. "Well," she said, "after what passed between you and Chupurosa Hatchinguish that day, I'm almost positive that tomorrow night you are to be extended the honour of becoming a member of the tribe. And I know the fire dance is a ceremony connected with admitting an outsider to membership. White men who have married Indian women are about the only ones that are ever made tribal brothers by the Showut Poche-dakas; so in your case it is a distinct honour. "I have seen this fire dance. While a white person cannot accurately interpret its significance, it seems that the fire is emblematical of all the forces which naturally would be pitted against you in your endeavour to ally yourself with the Showut Poche-dakas. "For instance, there's your white skin and your love for your own people, the difference in the life you have led as compared with theirs, what you have been taught--and, oh, everything that might be against the alliance. All this, I say, is represented by the fire. And in the fire dance, my dear friend, you must stamp out these objections with your bare feet if you would become brother to the Showut Poche-dakas." "With my bare feet? Stamp out these objections?" "Yes--as represented by the fire." "You mean I must stamp out a _fire_ with my bare feet? _Actually?_" "Actually--literally--honest-to-goodnessly!" "Good night!" cried Oliver. "I'll cleave to my kith and kin." "And never learn the question that puzzled your idealistic father for thirty years? Nor whether the correct answer is Yes or No?" "But, heavens, I don't put out a fire that way!" "It's not so dreadful as it sounds," she consoled. "You join the tribe, and you all go marching and stamping about a big bonfire for hours and hours and hours, till the fire is conveniently low. Then the one who is to be admitted to brotherhood and a chosen member of the tribe--the champion fire-dancer, in short--jump on what is left of the fire and stamp it out. Of course there are objections to you from the view-point of the Showut Poche-dakas, and they must be overcome by a representative of them. If the fire proves too much for your bare feet the objections are too strong to be overcome, and you never will be an honourary Showut Poche-daka. But if the two of you conquer the fire with your bare feet the ceremony is over, and you're It. And when the other Indians see that you two Indians"--her eyes twinkled--"are getting the better of the fire, they'll jump in and help you." "A very entertaining ceremony--for the grandstand," was Oliver's dry opinion.