It was never too cold or too warm for the handsome little savage to get up on these occasions and give a sort of rude welcome to the tired rider, who, although nearly worn out by his arduous duty, would take up the baby boy and pet him a moment before he threw himself down on his bed of robes.

The young Pawnee had a very strange love for horses.  He would always hug the animals as they came off their long trip, pat their noses, and softly murmur, “Cayuse, cayuse."[29]

The precocious little savage was known to every rider on the trail from St. Joe to Sacramento.  Of course the Indians were always on the alert to steal the horses that belonged to the stations, but where Little Cayuse was living they never made a success of it, owing to his vigilance.  Often he saved the animals by giving the soundly sleeping men warning of the approach of the savages who were stealthily creeping up to stampede the animals.

The boy was better than an electric battery, for he never failed to notify the men of the approach of anything that walked.  So famous did he become that his wonderful powers were at last known at the headquarters of the great company, and the president sent Little Cayuse a beautiful rifle just fitted to his stature, and before he had reached the age of six he killed with it a great gray wolf that came prowling around the station one evening.

One cold night, after twelve o’clock, Whipsaw happened to get out of bed, and he found the little Pawnee sitting upright in his bed, apparently listening intently to some sound which was perfectly undistinguishable to other ears.

The station-boss whispered to him, “Horses?”

“No,” replied the little Pawnee, but continued looking up into his father’s face with an unmistakable air of seriousness.

“Better go to sleep,” said Whipsaw.

Little Cayuse only shook his head in the negative.  The station-boss then turned to the other men and said:  “Wake up, all of you, something is going wrong.”

“What is the matter?” inquired one of the riders as he rose.

“I don’t exactly know,” replied the boss, “but Cayuse keeps listening with them wonderful ears of his, and when I told him to go to sleep he only shook his head, and that boy never makes a mistake.”

A candle was lighted, it was long after the express was due from the east.

The little Pawnee looked at the men and said, “Long time—­no cayuse—­ no cayuse.”

They then realized what the Pawnee meant:  it was nearly two o’clock, and the rider from the East was more than two hours behind time.  The little Pawnee knew it better than any clock could have told him, and both of the men sat up uneasy, fidgeting, for they felt that something had gone wrong, as it was beyond the possibility for any rider, if alive, to be so much behind the schedule time.  They anxiously waited by the dim light of their candle for the sound of horses’ feet, but their ears were not rewarded by the welcome sound.