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Eastman, Charles A., 1858-1939

"Old Indian Days"

I was scarcely able to walk
when I came out, but they filled the pipe and
held it up to me, as is done in recognition of
distinguished service. They escorted me into
the post, singing war songs and songs of brave
deeds, and there I delivered up his letters to the
Chief Soldier."
Again the drum was struck and the old men
cheered Zuyamani, who added:
"I think that Poor Dog was right, for the
Great Father never gave me any credit, nor did
he ever reward me for what I had done. Yet
I have not been without honor, for my own
people have not forgotten me, even though I
went upon the white man's errand."


VII

THE GRAVE OF THE DOG
The full moon was just clear of the high
mountain ranges. Surrounded by a
ring of bluish haze, it looked almost
as if it were frozen against the impalpable blue-
black of the reckless midwinter sky.
The game scout moved slowly homeward,
well wrapped in his long buffalo robe, which was
securely belted to his strong loins; his quiver
tightly tied to his shoulders so as not to impede
his progress.


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