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Will felt that he had taken another step into favor, and it was soon proved by a lightening of his labors and an increase in his share of the general amusements. Life was continually growing more tolerable. The black periods were becoming shorter and the bright periods were growing longer. The evenings had now grown so cold that the young Sioux spent them mostly in the lodges, Will devoting a large part of his time to learning the language from Inmutanka, who was a willing teacher. As he had much leisure and the Sioux vocabulary was limited he could soon talk it fluently.

All the while the winter deepened and Will, seeing that he would have no possible chance of escape for many months, resigned himself to his captivity. The fierce rain that lasted two days, was followed by snow, but the Indians still hunted and brought in much game, particularly several fine elk of the great size found only in the far northwest. They stood as tall as a horse, and Will judged that they weighed more than a thousand pounds apiece.

Then deeper snow came and he could hear it thundering in avalanches on the distant slopes. He was quite sure now that they were even farther north than he had at first supposed, and that probably they would be snowed in all the winter in the valley, a condition to which the Indians were indifferent, as they had good shelter and plenty of food. They began to make snowshoes, but Will judged that they would be used for hunting rather than for travel. There was no reason on earth that he knew why the village should move, or any of its people abandon it.

The warriors spent a part of their time making lances, bows, arrows and shields, sometimes working in a cave-like opening in the slope a little distance from the village. Will did his share of this work and grew exceedingly skilful. One very cold morning he and several others were toiling hard at the task under the critical eye of old Xingudan, who sat on a ledge wrapped in a pair of heavy blankets, Will's fine repeating rifle lying across his knees.

Two of the warriors were sent back to the village for more materials, the others were dispatched on different tasks until finally only Will was left at work, with Xingudan watching. The Fox had seen many winters and summers, and his wilderness wisdom was great, but he was an Indian and a Sioux to the bone. He had noted the steady march of the white man toward the west, and even if the buffalo continued to come forever in countless numbers out of the vast caves in the south, they might come, in time, for the white man only and not for the red.

He regarded Will with a yellow and evil eye. Wayaka was a good lad – he had proved it more than once – but he was a representative of the conquering and hated race. Heraka had said that his fate, the most terrible that could be devised, must come some day, but Wayaka was not to know the hour of its coming; no sign that it was at hand must be given.

Xingudan went over again the words of Heraka, who was higher in rank than he, and he pursed his lips thoughtfully, trying to decide what he would do. Then he heard a woof and a snort, and a sudden lurch of a heavy body. He sprang to his feet in alarm. While he was thinking and inattentive, Rota (the grizzly bear), not yet gone into his winter sleep, vast and hungry, was upon him.

Xingudan was no coward, but he was not so agile as a younger man. He sprang to his feet and hastily leveling the repeating rifle fired once, twice. The Indian is not a good marksman, least of all when in great haste. One of the bullets flew wild, the other struck him in the shoulder, and to Rota that was merely the thrust of a needle, stinging but not dangerous. A stroke of a great paw and the rifle was dashed from the hands of the old chief. Then he upreared himself in his mighty and terrible height, one of the most powerful and ferocious beasts, when wounded, that the world has ever known.

Will had seen the rush of the grizzly and the defense of the chief. He snatched up a great spear, a weapon full ten feet long and with a point and blade as keen as a razor. He thrust it past Xingudan and, with all his might, full into the chest of the upreared bear. Strength and a prodigious effort driven on by nervous force sped the blow, and the bear, huge as he was, was fairly impaled. But Will still hung to the lance and continued to push.

Terrific roars of pain and anger came from the throat of the bear. A bloody foam gushed from his mouth and he fell heavily, wrenching the spear from the boy's grasp and breaking the shaft as he fell. His great sides heaved, but presently he lay quite still, and Will, quivering from his immense nervous effort, knew that he was dead.

Old Xingudan, who had been half stunned, rose to his feet, steadied himself, and said with great dignity:

"You have saved my life, Wayaka. It was a great deed to slay Rota with only capa (a spear) and the beast, too, is one of the most monstrous that has ever come into this valley. You are no longer Wayaka, but you shall be known as Waditaka (The Brave), nor shall I forget to be grateful."

Will steadied himself and sat down on a rock, because he was somewhat dizzy after such a frightful encounter. But he was glad that it had occurred. He had no doubt that Xingudan had spoken with the utmost sincerity, and now the ruler of the village was his staunch friend.

CHAPTER XIII
THE REWARD OF MERIT

While he was yet dizzy and the motes were flying in millions before his eyes, he heard shouts, and warriors came running, attracted by the sound of the shots. They cried out in amazement and delight at the monstrous grizzly lying slain upon the ground, and then turned to Xingudan to compliment him upon his achievement. But the old warrior spoke tersely:

"It was not I," said he, "it was Wayaka, who has now become Waditaka, who slew the great grizzly with a spear. Rarely has such a deed been done. The life of your chief, Xingudan, has been saved by a slave."

Will, who now understood Sioux well, heard every word and his heart began to beat. The motes ceased to dance before his eyes and the blood flowed back into his veins. It was a strange thing, but he had begun to acquire a liking for these Indians, savage and wild though they were, and, as he judged, so far removed from the white people that they came into contact with them but seldom. Perhaps a lucky chance, a valiant impulse, was about to put him on their social plane, that is, he might be raised from the condition of a slave to that of a freeman, free, at least, to go about the village as he pleased, and not to do the work of a menial.

Several of the young warriors turned to him and spoke their approval. The trace of a liking that had appeared in him had found a response in them. Friendship replies to friendship, and Will, who six months ago would have laughed at the endorsement of blanketed wild men, now felt a thrill of pleasure. But Xingudan as yet said little more. He pointed to the great bear and said:

"The skin belongs to Waditaka and Inmutanka. The flesh will be divided among the people."

Will and the old warrior, with the help of some of the young men, removed the monstrous hide. He did not care for any of the flesh, although he knew that the people would use large portions of it. Then he and Inmutanka scraped it carefully, and, when it was well cured until it was soft and flexible, they put it in their lodge, where it spread so far over the bark floor that they were compelled to roll it back partly, to keep it out of the fire in the centre. It was the finest trophy in the village, and many came to admire it.

"Rota was the largest that any of us has ever seen," said Inmutanka, "but the farther north we go the larger grow the great bears. Far up near the frozen seas it is said they are so large that they are almost as heavy as a buffalo. It is true, too, of Ta (the moose). Word comes out of the far north that he has been found there having the weight of at least three of our ponies."

Will did not doubt what Inmutanka said, but his interest in his words was due chiefly to the inferences he drew from them. Inmutanka spoke of the immensity of the bear because they were in the far north, and it was only another confirmation of his belief that the great march after he was taken captive had been made almost due north. They must be in some valley in the vast range of mountains that ran in an unbroken chain from the Arctic to the Antarctic, more than ten thousand miles. Perhaps they had gone much beyond the American line, and this was the last outlying village of the Sioux.

But he did not bother himself about it now, knowing that he could do nothing until next spring, as the snow fell heavily and almost continuously. It was three or four feet deep about the lodges and he knew that it lay in unmeasured depths in the passes. All the world was gleaming white, but the crests of the mountains were seldom visible, owing to the driving storms.

Plenty and cheerfulness prevailed in the village. Will had an idea that he was seeing savage life under the most favorable conditions. It was too true that the Indian coming in contact with the white man generally learned his vices and not his virtues, and too often forgot his own virtues also, until he became wholly bad. But this village, save for its firearms and metal tomahawks, was in much the same condition that other Indian villages must have been four or five hundred years earlier.

Old Xingudan ruled with the alternate severity and forbearance of a patriarch, and now he showed his kindly side to Will, treating him almost as one of their own young warriors. The "almost" was soon turned to a fact, as old Inmutanka formally adopted Will as his son with the ceremonies customary on such occasions, and he knew therefore that his struggle had been achieved at last, that he had now attained a plane of social equality with the Indians of the village.

Whatever it may have seemed six months before, it was no small triumph now. His task was chiefly in the making of arms, along with the other warriors, and he soon become the equal of any of them. He also practiced with them the throwing of the tomahawk at trees, in which he acquired wonderful dexterity. But his best work was done among the ponies. Often in jest he called himself the horse doctor of the camp. He had studied their ailments and he knew how to cure them, but above all was his extraordinary gift of reaching into the horse nature, a power, derived he knew not whence or how, of conveying to them the sympathy for them in his nature. They responded as human beings do to such a feeling, and, with a word and a sign, he could lead a whole herd from one field to another.

This power of his impressed the Sioux even more than his slaying of the monstrous grizzly bear with only a spear. It was a gift direct from Manitou, and they were proud that an adopted warrior of their village should have such a mysterious strength. Will knew now that he was no longer in danger of torture by fire or otherwise. Old Xingudan would not do it. Heraka, who was his superior chief, might return and command it, but Xingudan and the whole village would disobey. Moreover, he was now the adopted son of Inmutanka, a young Sioux warrior with all the rights of a Sioux, and the law forbade them to torture him or put him to death. And Indian laws were often better obeyed than white man's laws.

Xingudan kept his repeating rifle, his revolver and his field glasses, but a bow and arrows were permitted to him, and he learned to use them as well as any of the Indians. The valley and the slopes that were not too high and steep, afforded an extensive hunting range, despite the deep snow, and Will brought down with a lucky arrow a fine elk that made for him a position yet better in the village, as he and Inmutanka, his father, were entitled to the body, but instead divided at least half of it among the older and weaker men and women.

Despite the favor into which he had come, Will could learn nothing of his location or of the progress of the war between the great Sioux nation and the whites. Yet of the latter he had a hint. Just before the winter closed in on them finally, a young warrior, evidently a runner because he bore all the signs of having travelled far and fast, arrived in the valley. He was taken into the lodge of Xingudan and he departed the next morning with five of the young warriors of the village, the best men they had. When Will referred to their absence he received either no answer or an ambiguous one. Inmutanka himself would say nothing about them, but Will made a shrewd surmise that the runner had come for help in the great war and that the last and uttermost village would be stripped in the attempt to turn back the white tide.

His growing appreciation of wild life caused him to have an increasing feeling of sympathy for the Sioux. The white flood would engulf them some day. He knew that just as well as he knew that he was in the valley, but as for himself, he had no wish to see the buffalo disappear from the plains. If his own personal desires were consulted the west would remain a wilderness and a land of romance. It was pleasant to think that there was an immense region in which one could always discover a towering peak, a noble river or a splendid lake.

Adopted now into the tribe, and far from the battle line, he might have drifted on indefinitely with the Indians, but there was the memory of his white comrades, whom he could not believe dead, and also the mission upon which he had started, the hunt for the great mine which his father had found. The reasons why he should continue the search were overwhelming, and despite the kindness of Inmutanka and the others he meant to escape from them whenever he could.

The winter shut down fierce and hard. Will had never before known cold so intense and continuous. In the valley itself the snow lay deep and its surface was frozen hard, but the Indians moved over it easily on their snowshoes, the use of which Will learned with much pain and tribulation. The river was covered with ice of great thickness, but the Indians cut holes in it and caught many excellent fish, which added a pleasant variety to their diet.

One of their hardest struggles was to keep alive the herd of ponies. At the suggestion of Will and of Xingudan, who was a wise man beyond his race, much forage had been cut for them before the winter fell, and in the alcoves of the mountains where the snow was thin they were continually seeking grass, which grew despite everything. Will led in the work of saving the herd, and gradually he directed almost his whole time to it. He insisted upon gathering anything they could eat, even twigs, and Indian ponies are very tough. The young boys, the old men and the old women helped him and were directed by him.

Scarcely any young warriors were left in the village and Will's strength and intelligence fitted him for leadership. The weaker people began to rely upon him and, as he learned the ways of the wild and fused them with the ways of civilization, he became a great source of strength in the village. He wore a beautiful deerskin suit which several of the old women had made for him in gratitude for large supplies of food that he had given to them, and he had a splendid overcoat which Inmutanka and he had made of a buffalo robe.

The lodge of Inmutanka and Waditaka, who had once been known as Wayaka, became the most attractive in the village. Will lined the fire hole in the centre with stones, and in the roof he made a sort of flue which caused the vent to draw so much better that they were not troubled by smoke. He reinforced the bark floor with more bark, over which the great bear robe was spread on one side of the fire, while the other side was covered with the skins of smaller bears, wolves and wildcats. Many small articles of decoration or adornment hung about the walls. Inmutanka had been in the habit of shutting the door tightly at night, but as Will insisted upon leaving it open partly, no matter how bitter the weather, they always had plenty of fresh air and suffered from no colds. Will, too, insisted upon the utmost cleanliness and neatness, qualities in which the Indian does not always excel, and his example raised the tone of the village.

A period of very great cold came. Will reckoned that the mercury must be at least forty degrees below zero, and, for a week, the people scarcely stirred from their lodges. Then occurred the terrible invasion of the mountain wolves, the like of which the oldest man could not recall. Will and Inmutanka were awakened at dawn by a distant but ferocious whining.

"Wolves," said Inmutanka, "and they are hungry, but they will not attack a village."

He turned over in his warm buffalo robes and prepared to go to sleep again, but the whining grew louder and more ferocious, increasing to such an extent that Inmutanka became alarmed and went to the door. When he pulled back the flap yet farther the howling seemed very near and inexpressibly fierce.

"It is a great pack," said the old Sioux. "I have never before heard so many wolves howl together, and their voices are so big and fierce that they must be those of the great wolves of the northern mountains."

"They're going to attack the village," said Will. "I can tell that by the way they're coming on."

"It is so," said Inmutanka. "They run on the snow, which is frozen so deep that it can bear their weight."

Will threw on rapidly his deerskin suit, his buffalo overcoat and took down his bow and quiver of arrows. Inmutanka meanwhile beat heavily on a war drum, and in the bitter cold and darkness all who were able to fight poured out of the lodges, Xingudan at their head, carrying Will's rifle and revolver.

Several of the Indian women brought torches and held them aloft, casting vivid lines of red upon the frozen snow. From the great corral came frightened neighs and whinnies from the ponies, that knew a terrible foe was at hand. It was probably the ponies that would have been attacked first, but it was not in the character of the Sioux to stay in their lodges and let their animals be devoured. Valiantly, they had rushed forth to meet the most formidable wolf pack that had ever come out of the north, and by the light of the torches Will presently saw the great, gaunt, shadowy forms and the fiery eyes of the huge wolves which, driven by hunger, had boldly attacked a village.

It was impossible for him to estimate even their approximate numbers, but he believed they could not be less than several hundred. They hovered a while at the north side of the village, and then old Xingudan opened fire with the repeating rifle. Howling savagely, the wolves made their rush. The Indians who had rifles fired as fast as they could, but the bows, much more numerous, did the deadlier work. Will, remembering to keep his nerves steady, and standing by the side of his foster father, Inmutanka, sent arrow after arrow, generally at the throats of the wolves, and he rarely missed.

But the great pack, evidently driven by the fiercest hunger, did not give way for bullet or arrows. Huge slavering beasts, they pressed on continually. Two or three of the older men were pulled down and devoured before the very eyes of the people, and Will, who was rapidly shooting away his last arrows, felt himself seized by an immense horror. If the savage brutes should break through their line they would all be killed and eaten. Save for a rifle or two, time had turned back ten or twenty thousand years, when men fought continually with the great flesh-eaters for a place on earth.

Seized by an idea, he rushed to the center of the village where a great fire was burning, and snatched up a torch, calling to others to do likewise. It was the old squaws who were the quickest witted and they obeyed him at once. Twenty women held aloft the flaming wood, and they rushed directly in the faces of the wolves, which gave back as they had not given back before either rifle or arrow. Then the arrows sang in swarms, and the pack, fierce though its hunger might be, was unable to withstand more and fled.

Xingudan urged forward a pursuit. Will had exhausted his arrows, but an old warrior loaned him a long lance, and with it he slew two of the brutes which were now panic stricken. Yet the chief, like a good general, still pressed the fleeing horde, although the wolves turned once and another old man was killed. Inmutanka himself came very near losing his life, as a monster whirled and sprang for him, but Will received the throat of the wolf on the point of the lance, and although he was borne to the earth, the raging brute was killed instantly.

When the wintry dawn came, none of the great pack was left alive near the village. At least half were slain, and the others had scrambled away in some fashion among the mountains.

The village had escaped a great danger, but it rejoiced in victory. The old men, or what was left of them, were buried decently and then there was an immense taking of wolf-skins, the fine pelts of the huge northern beasts, which would long adorn the lodges of the Sioux, and Will again received approval for his quick and timely attack with fire. Xingudan knew in his heart that the village might have been overpowered and devoured had it not been for the wit and courage of Waditaka. But he merely said "Waditaka has done well." Will, however, knew that the four words meant much and that the liberty of the village was his. He was a sharer of all things save one – that, however, being much – namely, the knowledge of their location, which was kept from him as thoroughly as in the beginning.

But for a day or two he did not have much time to think of the question, as the whole village was busily engaged in skinning the slaughtered wolves and dressing the hides. Never before had so many been obtained at once by a single Indian village, and they secured every one, scraping them carefully and then drying them on high platforms or the boughs of trees. Often at night they heard a distant growling and they knew that a few wolves, still hiding in the valley, came out at night to devour the bodies of their dead comrades.

Will, lying between the furs in the strong lodge, would hear sometimes the sound of these faint growls, but they troubled him not at all. He would draw the buffalo robes more closely about him, as the child in the farmhouse pulls up the covers when he hears the patter of rain on the roof, and feels an immense sense of comfort. The compulsion of the life he was leading was fast sending him back to the primitive. He would have read had there been anything to read, but, despite the limited world of the valley in which he now lived, his daily activities were very great.

There was the pony herd, of which he was the chief guardian. Food must be found for it, though the hardy animals could and did do a great deal for themselves under the most adverse conditions. They ate twigs, they dug under the snow with their sharp hoofs for grass that yet lived in sheltered nooks, and Will and the Indians, by persistent seeking, were able to add to their supplies. They also had to break the ice on the river that they might drink, and, under the severe and continuous cold, the ice was now a foot thick.

Will also helped with the fishing through holes in the ice, and acquired all the Indian skill. The fish formed a most welcome addition to their diet of dried meat and the occasional bread made from Indian corn. He helped, too, with the continual strengthening of the lodges, because all the old Indians foresaw the fiercest winter in a generation.

As Will reverted farther and farther into the primitive he retained a virtue which is the product of civilization. He was respectful and helpful to the very old and weak. The percentage of such in the village was much larger than usual, as nearly all the warriors had gone to the war. He invariably took food to the weazened old squaws and the decrepit old men, who presented him with another suit of beautifully decorated deerskin, and a coat of the softest and finest buffalo robe that he had ever seen.

"Waditaka big favorite," said Inmutanka when Will showed him the buffalo overcoat. "By and by all old squaws marry him."

"What?" exclaimed Will in horror.

"Of course," said Inmutanka, grinning slyly. "He make old squaws many presents. Leave venison, buffalo meat, bear meat at doors of their lodges. They marry him in the spring."

But Will caught the twinkle in Inmutanka's eyes.

"If they propose," he said, "I'll offer good old Dr. Inmutanka in my place. He's nearer their age, and with his medical skill he'll be able to take care of them."

"Inmutanka never had a wife. He always what you call in your language bachelor. Too late to change now."

"But since you've raised this question I'll insist," said Will formidably. "You've been a bachelor too long, and you a great medical man too. Men are scarce in this village, and you must have at least a dozen wives."

"You stop, I stop," said Inmutanka in a tone of entreaty.

"Very good, honored foster-father. It's a closed subject forever. I don't think I'd care to have a dozen stepmothers just now."

The cold remained intense. Everything was frozen up, but game, nevertheless, still wandered into the valley and the warriors continually hunted it. All their bullets, never in great supply, had been fired away in the battle with the wolves, and they relied now upon bow and arrow. Two of the old warriors, attacking a fierce grizzly with these weapons, were slain by it, and though a party led by Xingudan, with Will as one of his lieutenants, killed the monster, there was mourning in the village for several days. Then it ceased abruptly. The dead were the dead. They had gone to the happy hunting grounds, where in time all must go, and it was foolish and unmanly to mourn so long. Will did not believe that the primitive retain grief as the civilized do. It was a provision to protect those among whom life was so uncertain.

A few days later a warrior of the Sioux nation arrived in the valley, suffering from a wound and on the point of death from cold and starvation. He was put in one of the warmest lodges, his wounds were dressed carefully and when he had revived sufficiently he asked for the old chief, Xingudan.

"I was hurt in battle with the white men many, many days' journey away," he said, "and the great chief Heraka, knowing I would not be fit for march and fight for a long time, sent me here to recover and he also sent with me a message for you."

"What was the message, Roka (Badger)?"

"It was in regard to the white youth, Wayaka, our prisoner."

"Wayaka has become Waditaka, owing to his great bravery. With only a spear he fought and slew a monstrous grizzly bear that would have killed me the next instant. When we drove off the huge pack of giant mountain wolves his service was the greatest."

"Even so, Xingudan. Those are brave deeds, but they cannot alter the command I brought from Heraka."

"What was the command, Roka?"

"That Waditaka be burned to death with slow fire at the stake, and that other tortures of which we know be inflicted upon him. We lost many warriors in battle with the whites and the soul of Heraka was bitter."

Old Xingudan leaned his chin on his hand and looked very thoughtfully at the fire that blazed in the centre of the lodge.

"The command of Heraka is unjust," he said.

"I cannot help that, as you know, Xingudan."

"I do not blame you, but there is something of which Heraka is ignorant."

"What is it?"

"Waditaka is now the adopted son of the wise and good Inmutanka."

"But the orders of Heraka are strict and stern."

"The rite of adoption is sacred. Until Waditaka himself chooses to change he is a Sioux and must be treated as a Sioux."

"The consent of Heraka was not secured for the adoption."

"It was impossible to reach him. The laws of the Sioux have not been violated. Waditaka is a brave young warrior. The fire shall not touch him. A winter great and terrible is upon us and it may be before it is over that we shall need him much. He is a brave young warrior and few of them are left now in the village. I am old, Roka, and the old as they draw near to Manitou and all the gods and spirits that people the air, hear many whispers of the future. A voice coming from afar tells low in my ear that before the snow and ice have gone Waditaka, who was born white but who is now a Sioux, the adopted son of Inmutanka, will save us all."

"And does Xingudan see that?"

"Yes, Roka, I see it."

The wounded warrior raised himself on his pallet and a look of awe appeared on his face.

"If thou readest the future aright, Xingudan," he said, "it would be well to save this lad and brave the anger of Heraka, if he be so bold as to defy the law of adoption."

"I am old and my bones are old, but even though he is a chief above me I do not fear Heraka. Waditaka shall not burn. I have said it."

"I have but delivered my message, Xingudan. Now I will sleep, as my wound is sore. I have traveled far and the cold is great."

Will little knew how his fate had been discussed in the lodge, and how his good humor, his acceptance of conditions and his zeal to help had saved him from a lingering and horrible death. Old Xingudan, taciturn though he was and severe of manner, was his firm friend and would defend him against Heraka, or the great war chief, Red Cloud, himself. Will was not only by formal rite of adoption a Sioux, but in the present crisis he was, on the whole, the most valuable young warrior in a village where young warriors were so scarce, owing to the distant war with the whites.

"You have delivered your message, Roka," said Xingudan, finally, "and you have no right to deliver it to anybody but me. Therefore your duty is done. Do not mention it again while you are with us."

"I obey, O Xingudan," said Roka. "Here I am under your command, and now I will exert all my energies to get well of my wound."

Will, meanwhile, relapsed farther and farther into the primitive, all the conditions of extreme wildness exerting upon him a powerful influence. They no longer had bullets and gunpowder or cartridges, but must fight with bow and arrow, lance and war club. It was necessary, too, to defend themselves, as the tremendous cold was driving into the valley more beasts of prey, ravening with hunger.