The days that followed were the happiest of Songbird's life. Not only was she with her father and the rest of her people once more, but she knew that there would be no more fighting between the Quahadas and the white men. Quannah had given his pledge of peace, and now the white people were his friends.

Little white children, dressed in clothes that seemed strange to Songbird, came to the Quahada camp and brought things that were very nice to eat. It did not take long for the Quahada children to rush eagerly and greet these visitors, though of course not one Quahada child could understand what the white children were saying. But that made no difference.

Sometimes the white mothers came, too. They brought clothing like the things the white children wore, and the Quahada squaws were much pleased when they saw their own youngsters dressed in the new finery, with shoes and stockings on their feet.

While the young Comanches walked awkwardly in their new things, or talked among themselves about the toys that had been given them, Songbird sat apart, silent but happy. A wonderful doll with real yellow hair, and blue eyes that closed in sleep sat primly beside her, but a dirty buckskin Indian doll was more often hugged to Songbird's breast.

Then one great day Songbird was taken to play with two children in the home of an officer. They brought toys and games, and she watched each thing they did, trying to act in the same way. Her father had told her to watch and learn to be like the white children, now.

After a little while she stopped playing and listened to the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. Then she rose to her feet and moved softly toward the room from which the music came.

Standing by the door she stared at one of the ladies who was seated before a big box that had a great many teeth, and as her fingers touched these white, shining teeth, the Spirit in the Box sang sweetly. Wide-eyed with wonder, Songbird listened without moving. She heard in the music the wind blowing through trees, the noise of the stream, the song of wild birds and the cry of the Thunder Bird.

The music stopped, and the lady, turning suddenly, saw the child in the doorway. Smiling, she beckoned Songbird, who came forward shyly. The little brown hand was lifted by the white, ringed hand of the lady. Songbird's fingers were pressed on the teeth of the box that sang, and as it spoke to her, Songbird's big, black eyes sparkled with joy, while her solemn little face lighted with a smile.

Then the lady motioned her to a chair, and for a long time Songbird sat listening to the singing of the Spirit in the Box. All this she told her father when she went back to his tepee. Each day after that when she went to play with the children, the mother of the children first took Songbird to the room where the Spirit in the Box sang for her.

And each day her father talked to her, telling her that she should learn everything that the white people knew, even how to make the Spirit in the Box sing when her fingers touched it.

There were many councils between Quannah and his head chiefs with the big white chiefs. But there was no more talk of war among the Quahadas. And one day Quannah told Songbird that they were free to go and build their camp again. Songbird did not tell him that she did not want to part from her new friends, but he understood her wistful face.

"I will come back many times to see them," he said, "and you shall come with me. Our new camp will not be far away from here."

So she was happy again. And the next day the Quahadas set busily to work taking down all the tepees and preparing to move to their own camping grounds. Songbird and Quannah did not spend these last hours with the Indians, for they were in the home of an officer.

After they had all eaten lunch together, the officer led the way to the front porch. There, before the house, stood a soldier holding the Big Gray Horse by its bridle, and on its back was a cavalry saddle.

"The horse and bridle and saddle are gifts to you from General Mackenzie," the officer said to Quannah, and an interpreter, who knew how to speak both the white men's language and that of the Comanches, repeated it to the chief.

The officer spoke again. This time he looked at Songbird and smiled, while the interpreter said, "The officers give Quannah's daughter the black pony which carried her into Fort Sill."

Then Quannah and Songbird noticed a soldier leading Star to the gate. Star's little mistress ran down the porch steps and did not stop until her arms were about the pony's neck.

When she was on Star's back, and Quannah had mounted the Big Gray Horse, Songbird saw her father hold out his hand to the officers who had gathered about them. Very gravely she did the same thing. None of the officers smiled as they took her small, brown hand, for she was a daughter of a great chief who had won their respect as a soldier and as a man.

Side by side Quannah and Songbird went slowly along the gravel road in front of the officers' homes; but when they had reached a point directly opposite the tall white lodge pole where the flag fluttered gracefully, Quannah reined the Big Gray Horse, so that it faced the lodge pole. Songbird did the same.

Her father lifted his hand, as she had seen the men and officers do many times. Without understanding, and without hesitation, Songbird, too, raised her hand and saluted the flag.

Her father smiled approval, then he said: "That is the flag of the Great Father, and we are his children now. It is as my mother, Preloch, would wish; and it is best for me, for you, and for all the Quahadas. The white men are our brothers. Together we shall dwell in peace."

So they rode to the place where their new camp was to be built, not far away from the garrison. Quannah explained, as they rode, that the buffalo hunters could not come there to fight the Quahadas, and that there would be food enough for the Indians, and that now the white soldiers would be their friends. He told her how he planned to make his people understand the white men's ways, their children to learn the things that white children were taught, and then, some day, maybe, he could bring back Preloch and Prairie Flower. For the officers had told him, through the interpreter, that his mother and sister were both dead.

Little Prairie Flower had lived only a short time after reaching the home of the white people, and Preloch, grieving constantly for her son, had died a year later, so the mother and the baby had been buried among the white people.

The officers who had told him this had shown their sympathy in their faces, and when Quannah asked if they thought that some day he might bring his mother and sister back to sleep among their own people, the officers had all been sure that the Great Father would think it was just and right.

Then Quannah and Songbird reached a little knoll where they had a view of a wide sweep of prairie land, broken by the outline of trees along the banks of a stream. Sitting silently on their horses, father and child gazed at the place where a new era was to dawn for their people.

Star's nose rubbed the neck of the Big Gray Horse, but his friend paid no attention to him. He was too busy watching a distant object which Star had not seen. Then, he, too, saw a slowly moving black pony. Its head hung dejectedly and it stumbled wearily as it approached them. Star's loud, shrill call caused the black pony to stop suddenly and fling its head high, while it gave answer. Neither Quannah nor Songbird tried to check the swift pace of the Big Gray Horse and Star, as, side by side, they raced joyously to meet Running Deer.

When they met, Star pawed the ground in his delight, and his mother kept nipping his shoulder with her teeth to tell how glad she was to find him. Later, as she trotted beside him, when Quannah and Songbird again rode forward, Running Deer told her colt how she, returning to camp with Quannah, had found that Star and Songbird both were missing.

After the white soldiers had captured and taken Quannah and all the braves and women and children to the garrison, Running Deer, assured now that her master would not need her for some time, stole quietly from the garrison one night to search for Star and Songbird; for Star was very dear to her, and she had noticed, too, how Quannah, when alone, grieved for his beloved daughter who was lost. She had come back to the Quahada camp and waited there several days, feeling sure that Star and Songbird would return. When they did not, she continued on her way to find them, and finally came to the Great Desert of the Staked Plains. With sorrowing heart she had reluctantly turned her steps back to the garrison, for now she knew not where to search for them on the vast, trackless sand plains; and she herself was weak and lean from thirst and hunger. Imagine, then, her joy upon finding Star and his little mistress safe and happy. But neither Star nor Running Deer knew that they alone were left of the once great Quahada pony herd. All the others were dead.

As the sun went down that evening, Quannah and Songbird, with the Big Gray Horse, Running Deer, and Star, reached the place where the new village was to be built. Back of them, on the road, the Quahadas toiled, but the eyes that watched the setting sun were hopeful. They knew that it would rise again to-morrow.