It was well that he controlled himself so completely. Indians came near the edge of the woods, and once some boys passed, driving a herd of ponies. But he crouched a little closer, and they went on. The day was fearfully long. The high sun poured down a shower of vertical beams that reached him even in the shelter of the bushes. The perspiration stood out on his brow, and his collar clung to his neck. He envied the freedom of the Comanches in the villages and the easy way in which they went about the pleasure of savage life. More warriors, evidently hunters, came in. Some bore portions of the buffalo, and others were loaded with wild turkeys. In these hard hours the boy learned much. He had passed safely through battle. But there one was borne up by the thrill and excitement of the charge, the firing and shouting and the comradeship of his fellows. Here he was alone, silent and waiting. Enduring such as that, his will achieved new powers. A single day saw the mental growth of a year or two. The sun passed the zenith and crept slowly down the western heavens. Welcome shadows appeared in the east, and the far lodges of the Comanches grew misty. Phil thought now that the village would sink into quiet, but he noticed instead a great bustle, and many people going about. Squaws bore torches which made a bright core of flame in the increasing dusk, and Phil was quite sure now that something unusual was going to occur. It seemed to him that the whole population of the village was gathering about the great medicine lodge. It must be the beginning of some important ceremony, and the time to enter the Comanche village was propitious. He inferred that on such an occasion the guard would be relaxed, at least in part, and as he heard the sound of hundreds of voices chanting monotonously he prepared for his great adventure. The twilight faded, and the night came in its place, thick and dark. The sound of many voices, some singing, some talking, came clearly through the crisp, dry air. The core of light before the medicine lodge increased, and, by its radiance, he saw dusky figures hastening toward it to join the great group gathered there. Phil took off his cap and hid it in the bushes. He would be bareheaded like the Comanches, wishing to look as much like them as possible. Fortunately his hair had grown somewhat long, and his face was deeply tanned. Once he thought of stripping to the waist in Comanche fashion, but his body, protected from the sun, was white, and he would be detected instantly. He spent a little time flexing and stretching his muscles, because, when he first rose to his feet, he could scarcely stand, and the blood, choked up in the arteries and veins, tingled for lack of circulation. But the stiffness and pain soon departed, and he felt stronger than ever before in his life. Then he started.