The two young braves traveled a little farther on, and then when they both agreed that an ideal place was not to be located, they settled for a small clump of trees nestled in a gully. There was water not too far distant, and about two hundred yards from where they camped, there was a large mass of rock ledges that rose up from the ground, eventually growing into a cliff. In among these boulders and rock ledges they were able to find a source of water, and so they decided to make this their base of operations. To the west of where they camped they had seen a small woodland and swamp area which they figured would make a good hunting place for wild game. The boys went about setting up their camping ground and when they had completed the task at hand they settled down to going over their hunting equipment. The two boys having checked their bows and arrows went off to attempt to find some fresh meat for supper. White Cloud headed for the woodlands to the west and Running Dog started for the rock formation to the north. After about two hours of hunting and searching, Running Dog returned to the campsite empty-handed, but soon he saw his friend White Cloud riding like the wind toward the camp. Slung over his horse’s neck was an object that flopped loosely back and forth as he rose. Soon he was in the camp and swinging down from his pony’s back he placed a plump young rabbit on the ground in front of Running Dog and smiled, saying, “Here, little friend, is our dinner for tonight.” Soon the fire was blazing, and the two boys settled down to a delicious meal of roast rabbit. When they had finished their dinner they rolled up in their blankets and were soon asleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, for they were determined to track down some large game and make their kill, for their supplies were running low and they must start the return trip to the village the following afternoon. The night passed without incident and when the dawn broke it was raining slightly. The two boys looked at the heavens frowning, but in about a half hour the sky had cleared and the sun shone through again. The boys started off for the woodland and their big game hunt. They had not gone very far when Running Dog glanced up toward the high rock formations. He did not know what caused him to look in that direction, but suddenly he stopped and called to White Cloud who had been riding a little ahead, anxious to reach the woods. “Wait, White Cloud. Look, look to the north, beyond that formation of rocks.” White Cloud turned and gazed in the direction Running Dog pointed. There rising above the rock formation were puffs of smoke. “Maybe it is the campfire of another hunting party, Running Dog?” “No,” said Running Dog, “that is not campfire, those are Kiowa smoke signals. I will try to make them out.” “Are you sure they are Kiowa smoke signals, Running Do?”