Tony was just beginning to feel slightly sore in the saddle when the Indian pointed off to the south-west and said, “There is my father’s tepee,” and within five minutes they had slipped from their mounts, and stood on the Chief’s domain.  A woman, followed by three children, came to the door.  She was very handsome, and wore the beautiful dress of her tribe.  Her cheeks were painted a brilliant crimson, and the parting of her hair was stained a rich orange.  North Eagle turned and spoke rapidly to her for a moment in the Blackfoot tongue.  She replied briefly.  “Here is my mother,” said the boy simply.  “She speaks no English, but she says you are welcome and her heart is warm for you.”

Tony lifted his cap while he shook hands.  The woman noiselessly put back the door of the tepee and motioned for him to enter.  For a moment he thought he must be dreaming.  The exterior of the tepee had been wonderful enough, with its painted designs of suns and planets and wolf heads and horses, but the inside betokened such a wealth of Indian possessions that the boy was fairly astounded.  The tepee itself was quite thirty feet in diameter, and pitched above dry, brown, clean prairie sod, which, however, was completely concealed by skins of many animals—­cinnamon bear, fox, prairie wolf, and badger.  To the poles were suspended suit after suit of magnificent buckskin, leggings, shirts, moccasins, all beaded and embroidered in priceless richness, fire bags, tobacco pouches, beaded gun cases, and rabbit robes.  Fully a dozen suits were fringed down the sleeves and leggings with numberless ermine tails.  At one side of the tepee lay piled quite a score of blankets in mixed colors, a heap of thick furs, pyramids of buffalo horns, and coils and coils of the famous “grass and sinew” lariats for roping cattle and horses.

The contents of that tepee would have brought thousands of dollars in New York City.

Across Norton’s mind there flashed the recollection of the passenger offering his paltry two dollars to Sleeping Thunder for the eagle plume in his hair.  No wonder the train conductor had laughed!  And just here North Eagle entered, asking him if he would care to see the cattle that were ranging somewhere near by.  Of course he cared, and for all the years to come he never forgot that sight.  For a mile beyond him the landscape seemed blotted out by a sea of gleaming horns and shifting hoofs—­a moving mass that seemed to swim into the sky.  It was a great possession—­a herd like that—­and Norton found himself marvelling at the strange fact that he and his parents, travelling in luxurious Pullmans, and living in a great city, were poor in comparison with this slender Blackfoot boy who was acting host with the grace that comes only with perfect freedom and simplicity.