APRIL 28, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
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“Day before yesterday we started to move in; 
my woman packed the skin with other things 
on the lodge skin horse. When we made camp 
in the evening, the skin was missing. Every- 
thing else that had been placed in the pack was 
there, the skin only was gone. While we were 
wondering how it could have happened, a young 
man rode up and tossed it to us. ‘I found it on 
the trail,’ he said. 
“So, you see, this skin is powerful bad medi- 
cine. I said that I was going to give it to you, 
and I now do so. Also I have told you all 
the evil it has done. I shall not blame you if 
you throw it in the fire, or otherwise dispose of 
it. All I ask is that you take it off our hands.” 
Of course, I accepted the skin. In time it 
became part of a handsome robe; a small bear 
skin in the center, the border of six wolverines. 
Nat-ah’-ki and I were in the saddle next 
morning long before the lodges began to come 
down, and started homeward. It had been a 
very warm night. Soon after we left camp a 
light wind sprang up from the north, cold, 
damp and with a strong odor of burning grass. 
We knew the sign well enough; the smoky smell 
was always the precursor of a storm from the 
north. “The Cold-maker is near,’ said Nat- 
ah’-ki. Let us hurry on.” 
Looking back, we saw that the Sweet Grass 
hills had become enveloped in a dense white 
fog, which was sweeping southward with in- 
credible swiftness. It soon overtook us, and 
was so thick that we could not see a hundred 
yards ahead. The sweat on our horses in- 
stantly froze; fine particles of frost filled the 
air; our ears began to tingle, and we covered 
them with handkerchiefs. It was useless to at- 
tempt to look out a course to the river, so we 
gave our horses the reins and kept them going, 
and arrived home before noon. The wind had 
steadily increased, the fog had gone, but snow 
had taken its place. Winter had come. 
Prime robes soon began to come in, and we 
were kept pretty busy exchanging goods and 
spirits for them. For convenience, we used 
brass checks in trading, each check representing 
one dollar. Having some robes to sell, an In- 
dian would stalk in, followed by one or more 
of his ‘women, carrying them, and as a rule, he 
would stand at a little distance, very silent and 
straight, his robe or blanket partly concealing 
his face, while we examined them and counted 
down the checks. Unless he needed a gun or 
some such expensive article, he generally gave 
his women a part of the proceeds, and invested 
the rest himself in whatever took his fancy; 
tobacco always, generally some liquor. They 
always wanted to taste of the liquor before 
buying, and we kept for that purpose a pailful 
of it and a cup behind the counter, which was 
four and a half feet in height. ‘There was seldom 
any objection to the strength of the article we 
sold, which was alcohol of high proof, mixed 
with five parts of water. A few moments after 
one of these extremely haughty customers had 
taken a drink, his manner changed. He became 
guite affable and loquacious, and before leaving 
would sometimes wish to embrace and kiss all 
present, including the traders. It was not often 
that any of them became cross with us, their 
quarrels generally taking place in camp. Nor 
were they, on the whole, much more quarrel- 
some than so many white men. We did little 
trading after dark, most of the people preferring 
to come in the morning to barter their furs and 
robes. I never knew a trader who had not 
some especial and privileged friends, and we 
were no exception to the rule. Several of these 
would sometimes come and sit with us of an 
evening to smoke and tell stories, and every lit- 
tle while either Berry or I would pass around 
the cup, but not too frequently. It was very 
interesting to listen to their tales, and queer 
conceptions of various things. 
Little Deer’s End. 
Then there were days when the warm chinook 
was blowing, that simply drew one out of the 
Fort and away on the plain. Nat-ah’-ki and I 
would saddle a couple of horses and _ ride 
a great circle, returning home tired and hungry 
and ready to retire right after the evening meal, 
to sleep soundly through the long winter night. 
One fine day we were out, and along about 2 or 
3 o'clock struck the river some five or six miles 
above the Fort and turned homeward down the 
valley. Riding along the trail through a grove of 
cottonwoods, we met mine enemy, Little Deer, in 
quest of beaver, as he had some traps tied to his 
saddle. He leered at Nat-ah’-ki, who happened 
to be in the lead, and scowled savagely at me as 
we passed. I must confess that I bent in the 
saddle once or twice, pretending to adjust my 
stirrup leather, but really furtively looking back 
under my arm. I was certainly afraid of him’ and 
felt relieved when I saw him disappear around a 
bend of the trail without once, so far as I could 
determine, turning to look back at us. 
Passing through the grove we crossed an open 
flat, went into another piece of timber and then 
out on a wide, bare bottom. When about 150 or 
200 yards from the last grove a gun boomed be- 
hind us and a bullet whizzed past my left side 
and kicked up the dust when it struck the ground 
farther on. Nat-ah’-ki shrieked, whipped up her 
horse and called to me to hurry, and we made 
pretty good time the rest of the way home. When 
the shot was fired I looked back and saw a thin 
cloud of smoke in front of some willows, but no 
man. It was Little Deer who had shot, of course, 
and he had come near hitting me. He had done 
just what I had always predicted he would do— 
attack me from behind; and from such a position 
as he was in it would have been folly to attempt 
to dislodge him. 
Nat-ah’-ki was from 
well-night speechless 
terror and anger. I was angry, too, and swore 
that I would kill Little Deer at sight. Berry lis- 
tened quietly, but made no comment until after 
supper, when we had quieted down. 
“You see,’ he began, “that fish has some pow- 
erful relations in camp, and although they know 
well enough that he needs killing, they are never- 
theless bound to avenge his death.” 
“Well?” I asked, “and am I to do nothing, and 
some day be potted from an ambush?” 
“No,” he replied. “We’ve got to kill him, but 
it must be done in such a manner that we will 
never be suspected. Just lay low and we will find 
some way to do it.” 
After that day Little Deer came no more to the 
Fort. If he needed anything he sent some one to 
purchase it for him. When Nat-ah’-ki and I rode 
we went out on the open plain, avoiding the 
coulées and the timber in the valley. Sometimes, 
of a night, Berry and I would try to devise some 
way to effectively get rid of my enemy, but we 
never succeeded. Could I have waylaid him, or 
shot him from behind, as he had attempted to do 
to me, I would gladly have done so. One should 
always fight the devil with his own weapons, 
It was a day in the fore part of March when 
Little Deer was missed from the camp. The pre- 
vious morning he had gone out with some other 
hunters on the plains north of the river to kill 
some meat. They had separated finally, but late 
in the afternoon several of them had seen the 
missing man on a butte skinning a buffalo, Dur- 
ing the night his horse had returned and joined 
the band to which it belonged, still saddled and 
trailing its lariat. Relatives of Little Deer went 
out and continued to search for him for several 
days, and at last they found him a long distance 
from the carcass of the buffalo he had skinned 
and cut up. He was lying in a coulée and the top 
of his head was crushed in. His wives and female 
relatives buried him, but the wives did not 
mourn; he had been very cruel to them and they 
were glad to be free. The meat of the buffalo 
he had killed had all been neatly cut up and pre- 
pared for loading on the horse. It was thought 
that he had left the place to kill something else 
and had been thrown, or that, perhaps, his horse 
had fallen with him and had kicked him in its 
struggles to rise. 
Nat-ah’-ki and I rejoiced when we learned this. 
She herself was the first to hear of it and came 
running in, all excitement, her eyes sparkling, and 
gave me a hearty squeeze. 
“Be happy,’ she cried. “Our enemy is dead ; 
they have found his body; we can ride where we 
please and without fear.” 
One night my old friend whom I have vari- 
ously called Bear Head and Wolverine—he took 
the former name after a successful battle he was 
in—paid us a visit. He stayed long after all the 
others had gone, silently smoking, much preoc- 
cupied about something. Both Berry and I no- 
ticed it and spoke about it. 
“He probably wants a new gun,” I said, “or 
maybe a blanket or a new dress for his woman. 
Whatever it is I’ll give it to him myself.” 
We were getting sleepy. Berry brought out a 
drink and handed it to him. “Well,” he said, 
“tell us about it; what is on your mind?” 
“T killed him,” he replied. “I killed him and 
carried his body to the coulée and dropped it.” 
This was news indeed. We knew at once to 
whom he referred, no other than Little Deer. 
“Ah!? we both exclaimed, and waited for him to 
continue, 
“T rode up to where he was tying his meat and 
got off my horse to tighten the saddie. We got 
to talking and he told about shooting at you. ‘T 
don’t see how I missed,’ he said, ‘for I took care- 
ful aim. But I’m not done. I'll kill that white 
man yet, and his woman shall be my woman, even 
if she does hate me.’ 
“His words made me mad. ‘Kill him!’ some- 
thing said to me. ‘Kill him, lest he kill your 
friend who has been so good to you.’ He was 
bending over tying the last pieces of meat; I 
raised my rifle and struck him right on top of 
his head, and he fell forward, his shadow de- 
parted. I was glad that I did it.” 
He arose and prepared to leave. “Friend,” I 
said, grasping his hand and heartily shaking it, 
“what is mine is yours. What can I give you?” 
“Nothing,” he replied. “Nothing. I am not 
poor, But if I ever am in need then I will come 
and ask for help.” 
He went out and we closed and barred the 
door. “Well, I’ll be damned if that isn’t the best 
turn I ever knew an Indian to do for a white 
