Stealing the brains of the warriors was the tizwin until their actions were guided only by the stark brutish germ of savagery. Thus it came that Juh, seeing Go-yat-thlay, bethought himself of Shoz-Dijiji and his hate. Leaving the firelight and the revellers, Juh moved quietly through the outer shadows toward the hogan of Go-yat-thlay. Black Bear lay wide awake, listening to the alluring, savage sounds that came to him through the open doorway that similarly revealed to his childish eyes occasional glimpses of the orgy. Suddenly, in the opening, the figure of a man was silhouetted against the glimmering firelight beyond. Shoz-Dijiji recognized Juh instantly and, too, the knife grasped in the war chief’s sinewy hand and knew why he had come. Beside the child lay the toys of a primitive boy—toys today, the weapons of the coming warrior tomorrow. He reached forth and seized his bow and an arrow. Juh, coming from the lesser darkness without, was standing in the doorway accustoming his eyes to the gloom of the hogan’s interior. Keen-eared savage that he was he heard no sound, for Shoz-Dijiji, too, was a savage and he made no sound—not until his bow string twanged; but that was too late for Juh to profit by it as already a quartz-tipped shaft had torn into his right hand and his knife had slipped from nerveless fingers to the ground. With a savage Apache oath he leaped forward, but still he could not see well in the darkness, and so it was that Black Bear slipped past him and was out of the hut before Juh could seize him. A dozen paces away the boy halted and wheeled about. “Come out, Juh,” he cried, “and Shoz-Dijiji will kill you! Come out, gut of a coyote, and Shoz-Dijiji will feed your heart to the dogs.” Shoz-Dijiji said other things, that are unprintable, but Juh did not come out, for he knew that the boy was voicing no vain boast. An hour passed and Juh was thinking hard, for the effects of the tizwin had lessened under the stress of his predicament. Suppose the squaws should return and find him held prisoner here by a boy—he would be laughed out of camp. The thought sobered him completely. “Juh had it not in his heart to harm Shoz-Dijiji,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “He did but joke.” “Ugh!” grunted Black Bear. “Juh speaks lies.” “Let Juh come out and he will never harm Shoz-Dijiji again,” dickered the chief. “Juh has not yet harmed Shoz-Dijiji,” mocked the lad in whose mind was slowly awakening a thought suggested by Juh’s offer. Why not make capital of his enemy’s predicament? “Shoz-Dijiji will let you go,” he said, “if you will promise never to harm him again—and give him three ponies.” “Never!” cried the chief. “The women and the children will laugh at you behind their hands when they hear of this,” the boy reminded him.