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I supposed the woemn understood clearly that they, like the silver pendants tied in the manes, like the coins fastened on the reins, like the saddles inlaid with gold, with golden wire wrapped about the pommels, were being displayed as protions of the wealth of the Isanna.
    "The others," said Cuwignaka, "stripped, are kept in small heards, with the kaiila, outside the camp, watched over by boys."
    "I understand," I said. The Isanna would probably see little point in marching more familiar types, more common women, before the Isbu.
    I saw another blonde moving by. She was half stumbling, half being dragged along, weeping, on a short neck tether, not more than five feet long. She was, I would guess, about seventeen. The tether was in the first of a red master. I did not think he was more than eighteen years of age. He was moving his kaiila quickly, along the side of the lines, probably hurrying to occupy his designated place in the procession. He was not gentle with is lovely property. She was crying. She seemed new to her collar. I suspected she had not been a slave long. She was a survivor, perhaps, of the wagon train which had been attacked several days ago. She was doubtless still in the process of learning her new purposes in life. I saw no woman with the Isanna, incidentally, who had a hair color
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    remotely like that of the slender, lovely Winyela, Canka's slave. I wondered if she knew the extent to which she was a prize in the Barrens.
    "Mahpiyasapa is going to greet Watonka," said Cuwignaka. "Let us hrry forward, that we may see."
    I was not at all certain that this was a good idea, but I accompanied Cuwignaka. He was so young, so insuppressible, so elated to be again with the Isbu, his people, that, I think, he did not soberly consider whether or not he would be likely to be welcome at such an encounter, even as a bystander.
    Mahpiyasapa, Black Clouds, civil chief of the Isbu, greeted Watonka, One-Who-Is-Rich, on foot, welcoming him officially to the Isbu camp. This honor accorded him, Watonka dismounted. The two men embraced. About them were gathered medicine men and high warriors. With Mahpiyasapa were his son, Hci, and members of the Sleen Soldiers. Canka, too, was there, and several of the All Comrades. Chiefs and representatives of the Casmu, Napoktan and Wismahi, too, were present. Among them I saw Kahintokapa, One-Who-Walks-Before, of the Casmu, and two other members, as well, of the prestigious Yellow-Kaiila Riders.
    "Greetings, Iwoso," said Cuwignaka. "How beautiful you have become."
    He had spoken to a girl who was standing near the stirrup of another girl, mounted on a kaiila. The standing girl, to whom Cuwignaka had spoken, had come with the Isanna. She had come walking at stirrup of the mounted girl. She wore a rather plain shirtdress, with knee-length leggings and moccasins. Her braided hair was tied with red cloth. There were glass beads about her neck. She was quite lovely. The girl on the kaiila, too, was very lovely, indeed, perhaps even more lovely than she afoot. but her beauty, in any event, was much enhanced by her finery. Her dress was a soft-tanned hide, almost white, fringed into which, about the breasts and shoulders, were worked intricate patterns of yellow and red beading. Her leggings and moccasins were similarly decorated. Her braided hair, glossy and long, was bound with silver string. Two golden bracelets adorned her left wrist. She wore two necklaces of beads, and another on which were threaded tiny, heavy tubes and pendants, spaced intermittently, of silver and gold. Across her forehead hung a tiny silver chain on which were tiny silver droplets.
    "You, too, Bloketu," said Cuwignaka, looking up at the mounted girl.
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    "Do not speak to my maiden," said the girl on the kailla.
    "Iwoso is a Yellow Knife," said Cuwignaka. "She was taken when she was twelve. Bloketu is the