It was a clear summer day. The blue, blue sky dropped low over the edge of the green level land. A large yellow sun hung directly overhead.

The singing of birds filled the summer space between earth and sky with sweet music. Again and again sang a yellow-breasted birdie—”Koda Ni Dakota!” He insisted upon it. “Koda Ni Dakota!” which was “Friend, you’re a Dakota! Friend, you’re a Dakota!” Perchance the birdie meant the avenger with the magic arrow, for there across the plain he strode.