Now Little Beaver sent a challenge to Blackhawk.  It was scornfully accepted.  Again the Boiler Chief was victor and won another scalp, while Little Beaver got a black eye and a bad licking, but the enemy retired.

Yan had always been considered a timid boy at Bonnerton, but that was largely the result of his repressive home training.  Sanger was working great changes.  To be treated with respect by the head of the house was a new and delightful experience.  It developed his self-respect.  His wood life was making him wonderfully self-reliant, and improved health helped his courage, so next day, when the enemy appeared in full force, every one was surprised when Yan again challenged Blackhawk.  It really cost him a desperate and mighty effort to do so, for it is one thing to challenge a boy that you think you can “lick” and another to challenge one the very day after he has licked you.  Indeed, if the truth were known, Yan did it in fear and trembling, and therein lay the courage—­in going ahead when fear said “Go back.”

It is quite certain that a year before he would not have ventured in such a fight, and he only did it now because he had realized that Blackhawk was left-handed, and a plan to turn this to account had suggested itself.  Every one was much surprised at the challenge, but much more so when, to the joy of his tribe, Little Beaver won a brilliant victory.

Inspired by this, they drove the Boilers from the field, scored a grand triumph, and Sam and Yan each captured a scalp.

The Sangers held a Council and scalp-dance in celebration that night around an outdoor fire.  The Medicine Man was sent for to be in it.

After the dance, Chief Beaver, his face painted to hide his black eye, made a speech.  He claimed that the Boilers would surely look for reinforcements and attempt a new attack, and that, therefore, the Sangers should try to add to their number, too.

“I kin lick Char-less any time,” piped in Guy proudly, and swung the scalp he had won.

But the Medicine Man said:  “If I were you boys I’d fix up a peace.  Now you’ve won you ought to ask them to a big pow-wow.”

These were the events that led to the friendly meeting of the two Tribes in full war-paint.

Chief Woodpecker first addressed them:  “Say, fellers—­Brother Chiefs, I mean—­this yere quar’lin’ don’t pay.  We kin have more fun working together.  Let’s be friends an’ join in one Tribe.  There’s more fun when there’s a crowd.”

“All right,” said Blackhawk; “but we’ll call the tribe the ‘Boilers,’ coz we have the majority, and leave me Head Chief.”

“You are wrong about that.  Our Medicine Men makes us even number and more than even weight.  We’ve got the best camp—­have the swimming-pond, and we are the oldest Tribe, not to speak of the success we had in a certain leetle business not long ago which the youngest of us kin remember,” and Guy grinned in appreciation of this evident reference to his exploit.