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been impressed, since he first witnessed the Sun Dance, at the resemblance to a country fair in his own homeland far away. There was excitement in the air, a carnival atmosphere. There would be family reunions, dances of both ceremonial and social nature, feasting, telling of stories, and of course, the Big Council. Each chief would report the events of the year for his band. Thinking this sobering thought, he became depressed again.

    Heads Off had nearly reached the lodge of the Real-chief when another cluster of horsemen clattered past. He glanced up, and was startled to see Badger and his companions painted with the ceremonial stripe of scarlet across their brows. This was a complete departure from tradition. Even Heads Off, though a relative newcomer to the tribe, was aware that he had never seen ceremonial painting done merely to greet one’s friends and relatives at the big camp. The now familiar uneasy feeling of dread gnawed at his stomach for a moment.
    The gray mare stopped before a resplendent lodge of nearly thirty skins, and Heads Off called a greeting.
    â€œ Ah-koh , my chief! I am Heads Off, of the Southern band.”
    The Real-chief himself appeared at the doorway, and beckoned the visitor inside.
    â€œ Ah-koh , my friend! Come and smoke.”
    A young man stepped forward and took the reins of the mare, leading the animal to grass and water. Heads Off stooped and entered the lodge.
    His host led the way around the cooking fire to the pile of robes opposite the doorway. He motioned the younger man to a seat, and a woman brought a pipe and filled it. Heads Off brought forth his own pipe, and the two lighted their respective instruments with a stick brought from the fire by one of the wives of the host.
    The skirt of the lodge had been raised a few handspans on the south, and a comfortable breeze made the place quite appealing to a hot dusty traveler. The two men visited, talking of the weather, the mild winter, the hunt, and the lack of any contact with the Head Splitters. Then the old chief suddenly leaned forward confidentially and spoke on a new subject.
    â€œYou have trouble with some of your young men?”
    Heads Off was astonished. He had long since become aware
that the old chief was an extremely acute observer. The Real-chief also undoubtedly had observers to report to him. But how, only moments after their arrival, had he known of the internal politics of one of the bands under his jurisdiction? Once again, Heads Off marveled at the astuteness of the old man. Truly, he was a chief.

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    Little was accomplished in the ensuing conversation. Heads Off informed the Real-chief of the sequence of events, while the other nodded understandingly.
    â€œThis has happened before, Heads Off. The young men wish to have their own warrior society. They always grow up and return to the ways of the People.”
    â€œBut, my chief, they have had encounters with the Head Splitters, and have been successful.”
    â€œThat is the bad part,” agreed old Many Robes. “They do not remember what happened to the four at Sycamore Creek.” He shook his head. “ Aiee , some day they will meet a stronger force, and their learning will be a hard lesson.”
    In conclusion, the old chief agreed that there was little to be done. The Bloods should be ignored as much as possible, unless they broke rules of the council. The two agreed that in the Big Council, Heads Off would make no mention of the young dissidents. He would report on the movements of his band, but minimize the role of the Bloods and their skirmishes.
    Heads Off also described the subterfuge that had been used to keep the band moving. The Real-chief chuckled at the part played by the women. Aiee , he thought, if any can handle this problem, it is the Elk-dog band!
    The young chief left the lodge of Many Robes feeling somewhat better. To be sure, the situation was unchanged, but now his responsibility was shared by another, an