Part 2 (1/2)

Timid Hare, holding the big crock as carefully as possible on her shoulder, followed Black Bull out of the tepee. It seemed good to be outdoors, even in a village of the Dahcotas. In the doorway of the next lodge stood a young woman with pleasant eyes and beautiful glossy hair. She looked curiously at the little girl, for she had just heard of her capture. She must have pitied the child, for she smiled kindly at her. Black Bull, catching the smile, said, ”The Fountain, this is Timid Hare. Is she not strange to look upon--so fair? She must be like the pale-faces I have never seen.”

The Fountain had no chance to answer, for Black Bull now turned to his companion. ”Hurry, Timid Hare, hurry, lest my mother be angry and beat you.”

As the two went on their way, the little girl saw other children like herself, playing together and laughing happily. One of them had her doll, and was carrying it in a baby-cradle on her back. She was pretending it was too small to walk, and was singing a lullaby to make it go to sleep.

All the children stopped to look at the little stranger.

”A Mandan! Oof!” cried one.

”Her hair is not black like ours,” said another.

”Nor is her skin as dark. She is more like the pale-faces whom we hate,” remarked a third.

Then they turned to their play as if she were not worth noticing, and poor little Timid Hare blushed for shame. It was hard indeed that even the children should despise her.

A little farther on she noticed a group of men dancing together in the sunlight. They were much taller than the Mandan braves, and n.o.ble to look upon, as Black Bull had said. But to the little girl holding in mind the capture of the day before, they seemed cruel and fearful even now while they were dancing.

”The Dahcotas dance much--always,” explained Black Bull, pointing to the men. ”We have many, many dances. For everything there is a dance.

When we feast, and before we hunt, when councils are held, when guests come among us, we dance. It is a n.o.ble thing to dance. Sometimes,” he went on, ”it is too make us laugh. Sometimes it is to make our faces grow long--so!”

At this Black Bull's face took on a look of sadness as though he were grieving.

Timid Hare was used to the dances of the Mandans, and she loved them.

But they were not so many as those of the Dahcotas, she felt sure.

Why, the night before, whenever she wakened, she heard the sound of dancing in different lodges in the village.

”There is the spring. Now I go,” said Black Bull, pointing it out half-hidden in a hollow shaded by clumps of bushes. The youth, with Smoke who had followed close at his heels ever since leaving the lodge, turned back and Timid Hare stooped down to fill the crock.

As she did so her eyes met a pair of large black ones fastened upon her own, and just above the water's edge. They belonged to the chief's only son Young Antelope, who had come for a drink of cool water before going off on a hunting trip. He was a handsome youth. As he lay stretched out on the gra.s.sy bank above the spring he had heard the sound of Timid Hare's steps as she drew near, and looked up to see who it was.

”Oof! the stranger,” he said, but he did not scowl like the little girls whom the little captive had pa.s.sed a few minutes before.

The next minute he had sprung to his pony's back and gone galloping away. Timid Hare thought sadly of the dear foster-brother far away on the wide prairie, as she trudged back with her load to the tepee where The Stone awaited her.

THE CHANGE

”Bad,” scolded the squaw as she looked into the crock and saw that some of the water had been spilled on the way home.

She reached for her willow switch and used it twice on Timid Hare's back.

”I have a nice little task for you,” she said. ”Do you see this?” She pointed to a dish full of a dull red dye. ”It is for you,” she continued. ”No more pale-faces about us now. You are to take this dye and paint yourself--every part of your body, mind you. Then, when you have used this on your hair--” she pointed to a smaller dish containing a black dye--”we may be able to make a Dahcota out of you after all.”

”Waste no time,” she commanded, as Timid Hare turned slowly to the dishes of dye. ”I leave you now for a little while and when I come back--then I may like to look at you.”

The Stone left the lodge and Timid Hare was left to change herself so that even White Mink would not know her. Trained as she had been in the ways of all Indians, her tears fell often as she covered her body with the paint. She dare not leave one spot untouched, nor one tress of the beautiful hair that had been White Mink's pride. When the work was at last finished, there was no mirror in which to look at herself.

Once--just once, during her eight years of life among the Mandans, she had seen a looking-gla.s.s. It was no larger than the palm of her small hand, and belonged to the chief into whose hands it had come from a white hunter years before. It was such a wonderful thing! Timid Hare thought of it now and wished that she might see the picture that it would of herself reflect.