“When the little dog quit trying to make the people understand, and ran away, she went straight for the village. When she got there, the people were sleeping, but she ran around and around among the lodges yelping and howling, and that set all the other dogs barking. So the people awoke and ran out of their lodges to see what was happening. The little dog ran up to some relatives she knew and leaped up on them, whining and yawning, and making queer noises in her throat. And the relatives said, ‘This dog belongs to Good Buffalo’s little daughter, and he is gone hunting with his family. Something bad must have happened to them. We must go and find them.’ “It was past the middle of the night, but they did not wait until morning. They formed a war party and started in the direction Good Buffalo had gone hunting. One of them was carrying the little dog, and when they had been riding awhile, they put her on the ground. She whined and whimpered and ran ahead, and the war party followed. “When it was getting day, they could see that the little dog was limping and could hardly carry her tail. So one of them picked her up and let her ride in front of him. Afterwhile, they came to the bottom of a hill. The little dog leaped down and limped off up the hill, howling all the way. The party followed her; and when they were at the top, they saw three tepees in the valley and no smoke coming out. It was where Good Buffalo’s sister and little daughter were waiting for death with the six who were dead.” _Ho, ho! Ho, ho!_ But surely there was more! There was; but No Water was not in a hurry to divulge it. Adding the emphasis of silence to the impact of his tale, he searched our faces for a while with narrowed, penetrating eyes. “It was not a small war party that followed the little dog,” he continued. “The way I heard about it, there were forty-two. When they saw what they saw in that tepee and heard what they heard from Good Buffalo’s sister, and the little daughter crying and crying, their hearts were bad, and every warrior of them was like three. So eight of them started back afoot towards the village with six led horses and the dead across them, and the sister mourning with her hair cut off, and the daughter holding her little dog and crying. There was mourning in the village; but after six days the victory songs were louder. That was when the war party came back from following the enemies. The way I heard, they were Assiniboins, and they are like cousins of the Lakota! Caught them camping and feeling safe. Fifteen scalps that time! Fifteen, the way I heard! And all the horses, too! It is a true story. The old man who told it is living yet.” When all approving comments had been made, I ventured a question. “Grandfather, I wonder why the little girl could understand and the others could not.”