The Great War Chief first lighted the peace pipe, puffed for a minute,
then blew off the four smokes to the four winds and handed it to the
Second and Third War Chiefs, who did the same.
Little Beaver gave three thumps on the drum for silence, and the Great
Woodpecker rose up:
"Big Chiefs, Little Chiefs, Braves, Warriors, Councillors, Squaws,
and Papooses of the Sanger Indians: When our Tribe was at war with
them--them--them--other Injuns--them Birchbarks, we took prisoner one
of their warriors and tortured him to death two or three times, and he
showed such unusual stuff that we took him into our Tribe--"
Loud cries of "How--How--How," led by Yan.
"We gave a sun-dance for his benefit, but he didn't brown--seemed too
green--so we called him Sapwood. From that time he has fought his way
up from the ranks and got to be Third War Chief--"
"How--How--How."
"The other day the hull Tribe j'ined to attack an' capture a big
Grizzly and was licked bad, when the War Chief Sapwood came to the
rescue an' settled the owld baste with one kick on the snoot. Deeds
like this is touching. A feller that kin kick like that didn't orter
be called Sapwood nor Saphead nor Sapanything.
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