Part 7 (2/2)
She awoke next morning with her hand clutching the place where the sock lay hidden, and saw a kind face bending over her. It belonged to the same man who had held her when she roused from the snow-chill.
”What is it?” he asked gently. He pointed to her hand.
”It is--my charm. It is to bring me good.”
”May I see it?” The man's voice was so kind that it filled Timid Hare with perfect trust.
”You will--help me?” The child's eyes were full of pleading.
”Yes, little one.”
Slowly Timid Hare drew forth the sock. It was faded and soiled, yet the pattern in which the silk had been woven into the worsted was quite plain.
”How did--Why, tell me at once how you got this.” The man's voice was half stern, half pleading.
”It was--so.” With this beginning Timid Hare repeated the story as White Mink had told it to her. Many a time she had since told it to herself during her hard life with The Stone. It was such a strange story--so full of wonder to her still. The wonder of it was in her voice even now.
The man listened with half-closed eyes, but saying never a word till she finished. Then, as in a dream, he said in a low tone: ”It is my baby's sock--the pattern is one planned by my dear wife Alice who died out on this lonely prairie. And then--the sudden attack of the Dahcotas--and I made prisoner, while my baby Alice was left behind to perish. Afterwards I was rescued, though I cared little to live.”
”But child, child,” he burst out, ”though your eyes have the same color, the same expression as those of my dear wife, your skin is that of the red people.”
”I stained it--The Stone made me--and when I saw Sweet Gra.s.s liked me best so, I put on the color again and yet again.”
”G.o.d be praised! I have found my darling who, I thought, was lost forever.” The man lifted Timid Hare and clasped her tenderly in his arms. And she--well, the little girl rested there content and happy.
The next minute the rest of the party who had been out exploring, entered the tent with word that the start must be made at once. The clouds of the night before had lifted; the snow might not begin falling for several hours, and the most must be made of the morning towards reaching a larger camp where sledges would carry them a long ways towards a fur station.
Great was the joy of the others when they learned the good fortune that had come to their friend, and merry was the whole party as it made its way onward. Yes, Timid Hare, or rather Alice, now more like the Swift Fawn she had been, was merry too. But as she went on her way to the new and beautiful life that would soon be hers, she begged her father to take her back by-and-by for a visit to her foster-parents and Big Moose in the Mandan village on the river. And he promised gladly.
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