sleep, the "mikasi" or coyote dance, to keep up the spirits of all, would be engaged in by all except the captains.

Before sunrise, each morning, the camp was awake; breakfast was hastily eaten and the day's march resumed. At last the wary scouts far in advance sighted the village of the enemy and hastening back made their report. The sacred bags were opened, the scalp yell was raised and each warrior boasted anew of how he should conduct himself when he met the foe. And here, as the height of courage, Na-jin-ti-ce, the chief, the friend of Wa-ba-ska-ha, changed his name before the battle and bade the crier so proclaim it. And the crier, lifting his hands first toward the skies and then dropping them toward the earth, thus proclaimed it: "Thou deity on either side, hear it; hear ye that he has taken another name. He will take the name Nu-da-nax-a (Cries-for-the-war-path), halloo! Ye big head-lands, I tell you and send my voice that ye may hear it, halloo! Ye clumps of buffalo grass, I tell you and send it to you that ye may hear it, halloo! Ye big trees, I tell you and send it to you that ye may hear it, halloo! Ye birds of all kinds that walk and move on the ground, I tell you and send it to you that ye may hear it, halloo! Ye small animals of different sizes, that walk and move on the ground, I tell you and send it to you that ye may hear it, halloo! Thus have I sent to you to tell you, O ye animals! Right in the ranks of the foe will he kill a very swift man and come back after holding him, halloo ! He has thrown away the name Na-jin-ti-ce and will take the name Nu-da-nax-a, halloo !"

Now that the enemy had been discovered all was interest and action. The scouts were sent forward to count the lodges and discover whether the foemen were asleep or awake for it was nightfall. Then one of the chiefs went himself to make a final

examination. And at midnight, when all were ready, they moved stealthily forward; going by twenties, each warrior holding the hand of the man next him, they crawled toward the Pawnee village. Within arrow-shot of the village they halted, talking in whispers and exhorting each other to deeds of bravery. Just at daybreak, the leading war-chief drew his bow and sent an arrow toward the sleeping foe. Its flight could be distinctly seen by all the watching warriors. The time for the attack had arrived. The war-chief waved the sacred bag four times toward the enemy, he shouted his war-cry and at once the warriors, raising the scalp-yell, let fly their arrows.

That terrible yell, familiar to Indian ears, roused the sleepers. Snatching at their ever-ready weapons they rushed out into the chill morning air. Too late! The surprise was complete. Every surrounding tree-trunk sheltered a Ponka brave. Now from this quarter, now from that dashed out a hostile foeman to strike down or capture an unwary Pawnee. First to strike down and first to drag away his fallen foeman was Wa-ba-ska-ha. His vengeance had begun.

For an instant the Pawnees gained the advantage. Massing themselves for a rush they dashed against their enemy discharging their arrows as they ran.

The Indian could seldom stand before a combined assault. His tactics were those of ambuscade and covert. The Ponkas fled before the Pawnee onset. But even as they ran Wa-baska-ha heard the cry: "Nu-da-nax-a is killed!"

The bond of kinship was stronger than the fear of capture. He halted and turned toward the enemy. "Ho! I will stop running," he said. He dashed headlong into the very thick of the foe and, across the dead body of his friend and kinsman, Wa-ba-ska-ha fell fighting. His vengeance was completed.

But one such brave turn as his stayed the tide of retreat. The Pawnees fled at his approach and the Ponkas, following after, scattered or captured their routed foemen.

The death of the two friends ended the conflict. The Omahas, to which race the Ponkas belonged, never continued a fight after a chief had been killed. Gathering up their spoil and their captives the Ponka warriors turned homeward and the foray was over. Within the shadow of their own lodges the victory was celebrated with song and dance, the rewards for bravery were distributed among the warriors who had most highly distinguished themselves and the deeds and deaths of Nu-da-nax-a and Wa-ba-ska-ha were loudly sung. They had gone in glory to the rewards of Wa-kan-da,

Such heroic deaths as were those of these two friends were not uncommon among the barbaric warriors of the American forests. The story of Damon and Pythias could find frequent parallels in Indian tradition. The "companion warriors" of the prairie tribes, the "fellowhood" of the Wyandots, the curious rites of the Zuni " Priesthood of the Bow"- these and similar phases of Indian military life, of which the study of American ethnology affords us frequent glimpses, are proof of a methodical system of war training and a standard of martial heroism among the naked warriors of the Western world that not even the days of Roman prowess or the later era of a brutal knight-errantry could surpass. The cultured Natchez of the Mississippi Delta had regularly established schools for the military training of their youth; Toltec and Aztec, alike, laid especial stress upon the war-training of their boys; and in the farther north Omaha and Iroquois, bravest of the forest races, gave the military education of their youth into the charge of efficient and established teachers.