Now, while the boy walked to the camp leading the dun horse, most of the warriors rode back, and one of those that came first to the village went to the old woman and said to her, “Your grandson has killed the spotted calf.”  And the old woman said, “Why do you come to tell me this?  You ought to be ashamed to make fun of my boy, because he is poor.”  The warrior said, “What I have told you is true,” and then he rode away.  After a little while another brave rode up to the old woman, and said to her, “Your grandson has killed the spotted calf.”  Then the old woman began to cry, she felt so badly because every one made fun of her boy, because he was poor.

Pretty soon the boy came along, leading the horse up to the lodge where he and his grandmother lived.  It was a little lodge, just big enough for two, and was made of old pieces of skin that the old woman had picked up, and was tied together with strings of rawhide and sinew.  It was the meanest and worst lodge in the village.  When the old woman saw her boy leading the dun horse with the load of meat and the robes on it, she was very surprised.  The boy said to her, “Here, I have brought you plenty of meat to eat, and here is a robe, that you may have for yourself.  Take the meat off the horse.”  Then the old woman laughed, for her heart was glad.  But when she went to take the meat from the horse’s back, he snorted and jumped about, and acted like a wild horse.  The old woman looked at him in wonder, and could hardly believe that it was the same horse.  So the boy had to take off the meat, for the horse would not let the old woman come near him.

III

That night the horse spoke again to the boy and said, “Wa-ti-hes Chah’-ra-rat wa-ta.  Tomorrow the Sioux are coming—­a large war party.  They will attack the village, and you will have a great battle.  Now, when the Sioux are all drawn up in line of battle, and are all ready to fight, you jump on to me, and ride as hard as you can, right into the middle of the Sioux, and up to their Head Chief, their greatest warrior, and count coup on him, and kill him, and then ride back.  Do this four times, and count coup on four of the bravest Sioux, and kill them, but don’t go again.  If you go the fifth time, maybe you will be killed, or else you will lose me. La-ku’-ta-chix—­remember.”  So the boy promised.

The next day it happened as the horse had said, and the Sioux came down and formed in line of battle.  Then the boy took his bow and arrows, and jumped on the dun horse, and charged into the midst of them.  And when the Sioux saw that he was going to strike their Head Chief, they all shot their arrows at him, and the arrows flew so thickly across each other that they darkened the sky, but none of them hit the boy.  And he counted coup on the Chief, and killed him, and then rode back.  After that he charged again among the Sioux, where they were gathered thickest, and counted coup on their bravest warrior, and killed him.  And then twice more, until he had gone four times as the horse had told him.