[Illustration:  Big Bear Looks Into the Educational Situation]

“I wish,” she said, “that you’d please go around and ask Big Bear to go away.  He keeps looking in the window and bothering the scholars.”

We stepped around the corner, and Jack said:  “See here, neighbor Big Bear, you’re impeding the cause of education.”

The Indian looked at him stolidly, but did not move.

“Teacher says vamoose—­heap bother pappooses,” said Jack.

The Indian grunted and walked away.  “Nothing like understanding the language,” boasted Jack, as we went back to the wagon.

At noon we camped beside a stream, but thirty feet above it.  There was a clay bank almost as hard as stone rising perpendicularly from the water’s edge.  With a pail and rope we drew up all the water we needed.  In the afternoon we got our first sight of the Black Hills, like clouds low on the northern horizon.  About the same time we struck into the old Sidney trail, which, before the railroad had reached nearer points, was used in carrying freight to the Hills in wagons.  In some places it was half a mile wide and consisted of a score or more of tracks worn into deep ruts.  There was a herd of several thousand Texas cattle crossing the trail in charge of a dozen men, and we waited and watched them go by.  Ollie had never seen such a display of horns before.

Shortly after this we came upon the first sage-bush which we had seen.  It was queer gray stuff, shaped like miniature trees, and had the appearance of being able to get along with very little rain.

Toward night we found ourselves winding down among the hills to the Cheyenne River.  They were strange-looking hills, most of them utterly barren on their sides, which were nearly perpendicular, the hard soil standing almost as firm as rock.  They were ribbed and seamed by the rain—­in fact, they were not hills at all, properly speaking, but small bluffs left by the washing out of the ravines by the rain and melting snows.  Just as the sun was sinking among the distant hills we came to the river.  It was shallow, only four or five yards wide, and we easily forded it and camped on the other side.  The full moon was just rising over the eastern hills.  There was not a sound to be heard except the gentle murmur of the stream and the faint rustle of the leaves on a few cottonwood-trees.  There was plenty of driftwood all around, and after supper we built up the largest camp-fire we had ever had.  The flame leaped up above the wagon-top, and drifted away in a column of sparks and smoke, while the three horses stood in the background with their heads close together munching their hay, and the four of us (counting Snoozer) lay on the ground and blinked at the fire.

“This is what I call the proper thing,” remarked Jack, after some time, as he roiled over on his blanket and looked at the great round moon.

“Yes,” I said, “this will do well enough.  But it would be pretty cool here if it wasn’t for that fire.”