Part 3 (1/2)

The little girl made no answer.

”Hm! has the child won the heart of the chief's daughter?” she muttered. ”And next it would be the chief himself. That must not be.

Moreover, no bear meat was sent me. Ugh!”

THE MISCHIEF MAKER

That afternoon the sun shone brightly. It was a beautiful day of the late Indian summer. Sweet Gra.s.s, taking the mat she was weaving, left the lodge and sought a pleasant spot near the spring to go on with her work.

The Stone had been skulking about near the chief's lodge for several hours. She wanted to catch Sweet Gra.s.s alone and yet as if she had come upon her by accident.

She stealthily watched the young girl as she made her way to the spring, but did not appear before her for some time. When she did, she held some fine rushes in her hands.

”I have just found more. You will like them, Sweet Gra.s.s,” she said, trying to make her harsh voice as soft as possible.

The chief's daughter had never liked The Stone; and now, after hearing Timid Hare's story, it was not easy to act friendly.

”For the child's sake, I must not show my dislike,” she thought quickly. So she smiled, and looking at the rushes, said, ”These are good, very good. I can use them for my mat.”

She turned to her work while The Stone stood silent, watching her.

Then, suddenly, the old squaw bent over her and said, ”Sweet Gra.s.s, listen to me. I sent the child of the Mandans to you this morning.

She is bad--lazy--very lazy. Your father gave her into my keeping and I will train her, though it is hard. No one else would be patient with her wicked, lying ways. No one!”

The Stone stopped as suddenly as she had begun. She hoped that she had succeeded in making Sweet Gra.s.s believe that the little captive was as bad as she had said.

”Why do you talk? I do not care to listen to you,” said the young girl, looking up into the ugly face bending over her. Then she went on with her weaving as though she were alone. There was nothing left for The Stone but to go on her way, muttering.

”After this,” she promised herself, ”Timid Hare shall go little from my sight. I need her to do my bidding and save my steps. She must not be taken from me through any foolish fancy that Sweet Gra.s.s may have taken for her.”

THE HAPPY DAY

That evening the chief, Bent Horn, sat by his fireside, smoking with his friends. Close beside him was his handsome son. On the women's side of the lodge Sweet Gra.s.s and her mother squatted, listening to the stories of the men. As the hours pa.s.sed by, the visitors rose one by one and went home for the night's sleep. When the last one had gone Sweet Gra.s.s got up from her place and held out to her father the mat she had been making for him. A pretty picture had been woven into the rushes; it had taken all the young girl's skill to do it.

”For you, my father,” said Sweet Gra.s.s.

The chief smiled. He was proud of his young son who gave promise of becoming a fine hunter. But he was also proud of this one daughter.

He loved her so dearly that he could not bear to say, No, to anything she might ask of him.

”My father,” now said Sweet Gra.s.s, ”I wish to speak to you of the child Timid Hare whom you gave into the keeping of The Stone.”

The chief scowled. ”That pale-faced daughter of the cowardly Mandans?

She may thank you that she still lives,” he said sternly.

”But I have seen her and talked with her, my father, and she has won my heart. I want her to live with me and serve me. Will you let it be so?”

There was no answer.