“White man see Chi-i-wa,” grinned the chief.

Chi-i-wa gave them a toothless smile.  She was the most repulsive-looking object the boys ever had looked upon.  Chi-i-wa’s hair came down to the neck, where it had been barbered off square all the way around.  This was different from her august husband’s.  His hair lay in straight strands on his shoulders, while a band of gaudy red cloth, the badge of his office, was twisted over The forehead, binding the straight, black locks at the back of the head.

The squaw wore baggy trousers bound at the bottom with leggings, while over her shoulder was draped a red and white Indian blanket that was good to look upon.  The brilliant reds of the blankets all through the village lent a touch of color that was very pleasing to the eye.

The chief’s son was then brought out to shake hands with the white men, while Chi-i-wa squatted down and appeared to lose all interest in life.  Dogs and children were by this time gathered about in great numbers regarding the new comers with no little curiosity.

The chief’s son was introduced to the boys by Nance as “Afraid Of His Face.”

Stacy surveyed the straight-limbed but ugly faced young buck critically.

“I don’t blame him,” said the fat boy.

“Don’t blame him for what?” snapped Nance.

“For being afraid of his face.  So am I.”

The boys snickered, but their faces suddenly sobered at a sharp glance from the piercing eyes of the Kohot.

“Mi-ki-u-la,” said Afraid Of His Face, pointing to the much-soiled trousers of Stacy Brown.

“He likes your trousers, he says,” grinned the guide.

“Well, he can’t have them, though he certainly does need trousers,” decided Stacy reflectively, studying the muscular, half-naked limbs of the young buck.  “He couldn’t very well appear in polite society in that rig, could he, Tad?”

“Not unless he were going in swimming,” smiled Tad.

It was at this point that Tad Butler himself came near getting into difficulties.  The chief’s son, having been ordered in a series of explosive guttural sounds to do something, had started away when a yellow, wolfish looking cur got in way.  Afraid Of His Face gave the dog a vicious kick, then as if acting upon second thought he grabbed up the snarling dog, and twisting its front legs over on its back, dropped the yelping animal, giving it another kick before it touched the ground.

Tad’s face went fiery red.  He could not stand idly and witness the abuse of an animal.  The lad leaped forward and stood confronting the young buck with flaming face.  Tad would have struck the Indian had Nance not been on the spot.  With a powerful hand he thrust Tad behind him, saying something in the Indian language to Afraid Of His Face, which caused the buck to smile faintly and proceed on his mission.

“If you had struck him you never would have gotten out of here alive,” whispered the guide.  Stacy had been a witness to the proceeding.  He smiled sarcastically when Tad came back to where the fat boy was standing.