was invited for a council. After his speech, Iron Crow, one of the chiefs, replied that to make all perfectly happy would take more beeves than Mr. Curtis had provided. He was reassured, and the council broke up with many "Hows" and much handshaking. But, as the first procession formed in the morning, Slow Bull raised his voice in that wild, matchless oratory of the Indian and brought the procession to a sudden halt. He, too, wished to be placated with more beef. Then a careless teamster nearly ruined the whole enterprise by throwing off one of the sugarbags with the oats. After it had been rescued,

leading spirits. During the night a reaction in sentiment set in. In the morning the warriors, led by Red Hawk and Slow Bull, rode into camp. Their hearts were happy, they said, and they wished to help their white friend. Old rites were reënacted, old battles re-fought, old stories retold; and Mr. Curtis's pen and camera recorded it all.

TAKING PICTURES UNDER FIRE

At other times, in the Southwest, even after the chiefs had agreed to the picture-taking, crowds would collect in front of the camera. He had to leave one village by night without