"In our Sioux nation we never kill--that is, we do not kill Sioux. No Sioux has yet killed a Sioux, and few Sioux have ever called another of our tribe a liar. I called him a liar. He made a sign of anger and a loud noise of distress. My bride, on his command, left the tepee with him, telling me that under Sioux law, which I knew to be right, that the contract had not been filled until one moon had elapsed and all members of both families had smoked in celebration. What did I do? I rode away in the night toward the tracks where the Iron Horse runs, twenty days away, going and coming, to get from a white man's corral a horse and perhaps the blankets. This was while the grass was still green. "I found the horse and the blankets and a gun; also food in cans. But I found in a large bottle what I had heard of, but never tasted before. After the first sun had set I stopped at Dry Canyon, which is never dry, but full of roaring water, and there I drank nearly all from the bottle. What I did then I only remember as a dream, but I saw in my dream my bride and I wept. My pony and the horse I found in the white man's corral at the trail of the Iron Horse, with the blankets and the food in cans, and I--Big Jaw--waded Dry Canyon Creek, which I say was wet, for nearly a day and left no trail. I drank more of the white man's poison and then camped without a fire. "When the next sun came up I was ill and drank lots of water. Then came six men from the corral at the trail of the Iron Horse, and they bound my hands with small chains, tied me to my pony and took me back to the trail of the Iron Horse, where I was kept in a log house with iron windows until one night it burned, and I was taken out by the white man in charge, who, three moons ago, blindfolded me, put me on a horse and took me to another corral on the trail of the Iron Horse and locked me in a large tepee made of stone, where they fed me well and gave me medicine. "Then I was, one moon ago, put to work in a forest to chop trees, and I ran away. "Have you seen my bride--she of the hair as black as a starless night and teeth as white as the wing of a dove? "Oh, white man, tell me, have you seen her? I am a lost sheep--the trail is covered to my eyes, with which I have wept almost constantly all the moons I have been away. Have you seen her I seek? I am hungry, not in my stomach, but in my breast and in my head; I must feast or die!" Then he wept like a child. "Crazy," said Rawhide Robinson. "As a loon," added Parker, the night herder. "Give him a pull at the Parson's bottle in the medicine chest," suggested the Kid, as he gave the fire a stir under a pot of bean soup. "No," said the Parson, as he rode up on a mule and was told the story--"no liquor, boys. Feed him up and well let him trail back with us to Cheyenne and to the asylum. Poor cuss, he loved the squaw and he's clean daffy, but hasn't a bit of Injun left in him."