white folk of the Agency, including 

 ourselves arrived, when word was 

 brought to the waiting bride-elect 

 that there was a hitch in the pro- 

 ceedings. Montgomery Whiteleg re- 

 fused to have his hair cut. A 

 simple thing, but a knife upon which 

 nations have split. To the Indian 

 the loss of his hair was an indignity, 

 to the missionary, the refusal to 

 lose it a sacrilege. The affair was at 

 a deadlock. 



When the situation was explained 

 to her, Arabella arose, rushed out of 

 the school, and, her white veil float- 

 ing behind, ran along the road, 

 around the corner and into the 

 trading store, where Whiteleg, the 

 centre of a group of men, was sitting 

 savage and sullen. He looked at her 

 out of the corner of his eyes, and 

 then seizing her hand he pulled her 

 into the street, out of hearing of 

 the men. "The White Devil goes 

 too far," he muttered. 



"It-tas-da-chirsch promised Man- 

 ita," the girl said simply. Then she 

 added, "My three ponies and my 

 buffalo robe are yours. At the 

 Dog-dance next Sunday it will be 



