The first flush of dawn that stole up the valley found Red Cloud's village astir.
As Setting Sun had promised, the mystery surrounding Feel-the-Sky's death was first taken up; but the real detectives found themselves at fault from the first, and soon gave over the hunt.
The entire population of Red Cloud's town thronged about the square, in the centre of which the pole of torture stood.
Midnight Jack and Rube stood shoulder to shoulder not far from the spot where Tanglefoot and Gopher Gid, seated on Indian ponies, watched the scene.
The twain saw that the boy's feet were bound together under the belly of the little beast which he bestrode, and they noticed, too, that the animal's head was entirely bridleless.
“He's fixed Gopher to stay with him,” whispered Midnight Jack, when an opportunity offered itself. “The little chap takes it coolly. He's getting interested in the proceedings. He has forgotten we are all here.”
Then the speaker's eyes wandered through the savage crowds that were visible on every side.
But the only white face that greeted him was Gopher Gid's. Old Tanglefoot, the gin-smuggler, was arrayed in full Indian dress, one side of his face painted blue and striped with white, the other yellow and striped with black.
Such discolouring rendered his face perfectly hideous, and his expression was not softened by his ever-restless eyes.
The ceremony of the sun-dance opened at that moment when the god of day reached the meridian.
At a given signal six young bucks sprung into the open space and seized the ropes that dangled from the top of the pole.
Gopher Gid noticed that blood was streaming in profusion from knife cuts on their backs and breasts.
Several were accompanied by friends or assistants, who assisted in passing the thongs into the gashes under the tough sinews, and out again, where they were knotted to the main ropes, so that they would not slip out.
For several hours this disgusting ceremony proceeded.
Gopher Gid took notice of everything that passed around him; he watched the show of endurance in the ring until he turned his face away with a shudder.
At last a cry announced that one of the actors had broken through the flesh and fallen to the ground; there he lay like one dead, under the broiling heat of the sun. Another fainted from sheer exhaustion, and was released amid the plaudits of his friends, but the remaining four promised to eclipse Rain-in-the-Face's famous dance of four hours.