After that, I'll take a break.
Lieutenant Dunbar knelt on one knee and wrote down his name on the last line of his bark grammar book.
The more I looked at the word, the more I liked it.
He said to himself: dance with the Wolf.
The lieutenant stood up and bowed slightly in the direction of the bird.
When the butler announced the arrival of the dinner guests, the lieutenant spoke his name again, modestly and without pomp.
This time, he said in Indian, "dance with the wolves."
That night, I danced with the Wolf and stayed in the tent in the bird house.
Although he was very tired, these things happened to him, and he could not sleep no matter how tired he was.
What happened during the day, in his mind's eye, was like popcorn in a saucepan.
Finally, when he began to fall asleep, the lieutenant's mind drifted into a hazy dream he had only had when he was young.
The stars were around him, and he was floating in the cool, quiet air.
A floating boy, floating alone in the sky of stars and darkness.
But he was not afraid. He was sleeping in a comfortable, warm bed.
There were four pillars covered with green awnings.
And he is like a little seed, floating in the universe, as if forever and ever, forever and ever.
It's not hard, it's fun.
It was his first night of sleep in a summer camp handed down by his Sioux ancestors.
Lieutenant Dunbar, in the camp of ten bears, lived several times.
He often went back to the sieghwedgers camp, too, but not because he wanted to, but because he felt guilty and thought it was his duty to do so.
He knew that there was no reason for him to stay at segwich.
If the army drops out, he's still here alone.
He thought of his return to the castle, and he felt a clear conscience of what he had done here.
In fact, what he did for the U.S. military was exemplary enough to hold his head high as he left.
Today, he attracted deeply by this group of indians, put him in another world, he just started in the world to explore, in the beginning, he also don't know this is the fate of the beginning, at that time, he just wanted the frontier garrison, become a member of the corps TunShou boundary, so he can go to everywhere adventure, just like now.
Now that he has put his country, army and race behind him, he finds himself hungry for Indian culture.
He could not refuse Indian culture, like a dying man, to drink water.
He wants to know, so, what will happen, and that is why he gave up the idea of return to the army, but he did not forget, there could be dispatched troops to this, it's just sooner or later.
So whenever he returned to the sieghwedgers camp, he would clean it up.
For example, repair the awning of the window shade, sweep the cobweb in the corner of the hut, and keep a diary.
He forced himself to do the work so that he could stay in the camp, as he had done before.
The more he got along with the indians, the more he abandoned many of his past.
But he still had the idea that he was still a John Dunbar officer in the United States army...
The diary did not describe his daily life any more. Most of them remembered his new life every day.
He often walked along the river, and his socks often followed him.
He had only had one real contact, and the lieutenant was always glad to see it.
They often go together in silence, which is usually his precious time.
He often stopped by the river and stood for several minutes, watching the ripply river.
If the light is right, you can sometimes see your reflection in a river that is as clear as a mirror.
His hair grew over his shoulders, and the long sunburn made his face black.
He often faced the water and looked from side to side, admiring himself in his armor, like his uniform.
This armor was his most precious, except for the beautiful sisco.
Sometimes he looked at his reflection in the water and saw that he was becoming more and more like their people.
If you have a tall mirror that reflects your whole body, what an incongruous image it would be.
They wore Indian armor on their upper bodies, American blue and yellow striped trousers and high black riding boots on their lower bodies.
Occasionally, he thought, he would just throw away his trousers and his riding boots, and replace them with Indian leggings and Indian flats.
But the reflection of the water reminded him that his boots and trousers were his habit.
On the other hand, discipline in the military.
He had to wear boots and trousers and wait for the backup troops, and then again.
Some days when he felt more Indian than white, he went over the wall to find his Indian friends.
The sieghwedgers' camp, like ancient ruins, is as desolate as a ghost town.
It is hard to believe that he will come back occasionally.
Time goes by.
He returned occasionally to the camp at segwedgers, just to do the chores.
He returned less and less, and the interval grew longer and longer.
But he still rode sometimes and went back to his old house to have a look.