In a few minutes more the Nez Perce ponies were squeezing their packs through the narrow entrance of the notch, and a succession of approving grunts from Long Bear testified the satisfaction he felt at getting into so secure a fort. He perfectly understood the value and uses of that barrier. When daylight came he again said "Ugh!" several times while he was examining the stone wall and the other evidences of the skill and zeal of his pale-face friends. There was no more sleeping done in the notch, but there was an immense amount of very early cooking and eating, not to speak of the smoking and consultation, and the very general expression of a bad opinion of the entire Apache nation. They and their works, past, present, and to come, were condemned unsparingly. At the same time their fighting qualities were freely admitted, and with them the certainty that no Apache war-party would turn away from a bit of war so well begun as was this. The sun arose, but almost to the astonishment of Sile, as well as the Nez Perces, the hardy miners behaved very much as if they had no war whatever on their hands. "Them 'Paches'll come and go," said Jonas, "but we've got to have this 'ere wall finished." At it they went, well assured that the barrier and all the land near it would be well watched, and that it was an easy thing to do to pick up a rifle if an alarm should come. Sile felt less interest in the mine, somehow. The story of his exploit had been told, of course, to his Indian friends, and he could but see that it had made him an object of respectful admiration. There was not a warrior among them who would not have been proud of such a feather as that victory, but the effect upon Two Arrows was peculiar. He had regarded himself as Sile's superior in all things which did not belong especially to a young pale-face. It had not occurred to him that Sile was or ever could become a "great brave." Some of the "blue-coats" were, he knew, but Sile was not a blue-coat. He had heard stories of the prowess of other pale-faces, but Sile was a mere boy, and dreadfully green to the ways of the plains and mountains. He could not think of one boy of his band who really knew less of the things most important to be known, except rifle-shooting. His pride was touched in a tender spot, for although he was sure he had sent an arrow into an Apache, he had nothing to show for it. Na-tee-kah was enormously proud of that arrow, and Ha-ha-pah-no was compelled to remind her that her hero brother had brought in neither scalp nor horse, and had saved his own by the timely rifle practice of Sile and the men at the gap. For all that, Na-tee-kah had a vivid persuasion that, if the pale-faces had not interfered and driven away the Apache, there would have been more glory earned by the young chief of the Nez Perces. She could not be dissatisfied with Sile, however. After a brief consultation with his father, the Red-head went