The sun shone brightly throughout the whole celebration and the feasts were spread outdoors. The chiefs and braves sat in a half-circle at these feasts and the food was passed to them from steaming kettles. There was bear meat in plenty, fat and rich; baked turtles; juicy buffalo steaks and stews; but at the principal feast of all, only dog flesh was served. Then it was that the people of the village gathered in crowds around the feasters to watch and listen. Closest of all were the braves and their sons. Back of them were the squaws and their little daughters. Timid Hare, beside her young mistress Sweet Grass, listened with wonder to the noble speeches of the chiefs. Bent Horn spoke first of all. "My brother," he said to the Great Chief, "our hearts are almost bursting with gladness that you are with us today. "And you also"--Bent Horn continued, turning to one after another of the lesser chiefs, "we welcome you with gladness and feel that the Great Spirit has sent you to us. In token of our love we have killed faithful dogs that you may feast. May the Great Spirit bind us closely together. I say no more." As Bent Horn ended his speech he lifted before the eyes of the feasters a carved necklace made of the claws of grizzly bears, and his own robe of elk skins which he had just taken from his shoulders. Then he slowly rose and, going to the side of the guest of honor, he laid the gifts before him. Next, he took other gifts--embroidered moccasins and leggings--and presented them to the lesser chiefs. For a moment all were silent. Then the guests themselves made speeches, each one telling of his love for Bent Horn and his band, and giving rich gifts in return. And now the pipe of peace was lighted and brought to Bent Horn. Solemnly he pointed the stem to the north, the south, the east, and the west. Last of all, he lifted it towards the sun. Then he spoke. "How--how--how," he said slowly. Then in silence he smoked it, but only to take one long whiff, after which he held it in turn to the mouths of the other chiefs, that they might smoke it also. Not a word was spoken by any one during this solemn time. But as soon as the last guest had smoked, the dog-meat, floating in rich gravy, was brought from the steaming kettles and handed around in wooden bowls among the guests. All ate their fill. Then silently, they got up and went away. They had smoked and eaten the sacrifice together. Surely, they thought, there could be no better token of their friendship for each other. Timid Hare looked on from afar. She felt pride in her dear mistress's brother who had given up his own pet dog, in place of Black Bull. She was also filled with wonder at the greatness of the Dahcotas.