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“We beheld a circle of half-naked braves in full war regalia, squatting haunch to haunch, listening to a story-teller. In front of them was a confusion of blackened pails and steaming vessels, into which they dipped with their naked fingers. Their faces were streaked with paint, their lips were greasy with traces of the dish, the air of the place was reeking from their breaths. My eyes were slower than Alicia’s, and so I did not distinguish our quarry at first, although a slow sigh at my ear and a convulsive clutch at my arm told me that he was there.

“And then I, too, saw Running Elk. It was he who was talking, to whom the others listened. What a change two years had wrought! His voice was harsh and guttural, his face, through the painted daubs and streaks, was coarser and duller than when I had seen him. His very body was more thin and shrunken.

“He finished his tale while we stared at him; the circle broke into commendatory grunts, and he smiled in childlike satisfaction at the impression he had made. He leaned forward and, scrutinizing the litter of sooty pots, plunged his hand into the nearest one.

“Miss Harman stumbled back into the crowd and her place was taken by a squaw.

“‘Running Elk,’ I called, over the heads of those next the entrance, and, seeing my face against the night, he arose and came out, stepping over the others.

“‘How do you do?’ I said. ‘You haven’t forgotten me, have you?’

“He towered head and shoulders above me, his feather head-dress adding to his stature. The beaded patterns of his war-harness stood out dimly in the half-light.

“‘No, no! I will never forget you, doctor. You–you have been sick.’ The change in his speech was even more noticeable when he turned his tongue to English. He halted over his words and he mouthed them hesitatingly.

“‘Yes, pretty sick. And you, what are you doing?’

“‘I do what the rest do,’ said he. ‘Nothing! I have some horses and a few head of cattle, that is all.’

“‘Are you satisfied?’ I demanded, sharply. He eyed me darkly for an instant, then he answered, slowly:

“‘I am an Indian. I am satisfied.’

“‘Then education didn’t do you any good, after all?’ I was offended, disappointed; I must have spoken gruffly.

“This time he paused a long while before he replied.

“‘I had dreams,’ said he, ‘many dreams, and they were splendid; but you told me that dreams were out of place in a Sioux, so I forgot them, along with all the things I had learned. It is better so.’

“Alicia Harman called me in a voice which I did not recognize, so I shook hands with Running Elk and turned away. He bowed his head and slunk back through the tepee door, back into the heart of his people, back into the past, and with him went my experiment. Since then I have never meddled with the gods nor given them cause to laugh at me.”

The doctor arose and stretched himself, then he entered his tent for a match. The melancholy pulse of the drums and the minor-keyed chant which issued out of the night sounded like a dirge sung by a dying people.

“What became of Running Elk?” I inquired.

The old man answered from within. “That was he I asked about the horse-races. He’s the man you couldn’t understand, who wouldn’t talk to you. He’s nearly an Indian again. Alicia Harman married a duke.”