children and raising a great clamor of
chatter and laughter.

A little apart from the main company a tall and handsome Indian woman
plodded silently along by herself. The splendor of her kerchief had been
faded by sun and rain; her skirts were torn by briers, but the necklace
of silver beads wound many times about her throat retained its glory. On
one hip rested a huge basket, packed and corded. Astride the other rode
a sturdy-limbed boy of about four years of age. Nearly all day the child
had run by her side without complaint. But toward evening he had begun
to lag behind, until at last, when, after a good run, he caught up with
his mother, he clutched her skirts to help himself along. Then she had
stooped and picked him up with a sort of fierce tenderness and in a
moment he had fallen asleep.

Soon the Indians reached the hilltop where they were to camp for a few
days. Their preparations for the night's rest consisted chiefly in
building camp fires; for, though the days were warm, the nights were
chilly. Besides, fires were needed to cook food and to keep the wild
beasts away during the darkness. A small fire of light brush was made
first. Then several large logs were placed about it, each with one end
in the flame, so that they looked like the spokes of a great wheel
radiating from a center of fire. As the ends of the logs burned away,
the fiery ring at the center grew wider and dimmer. When a hotter fire
was wanted, the logs were pushed toward the center till the glowing ends
came together once more and burned briskly.

On the morning after the Red Sticks went into camp on the hill, while
others lounged and talked together, the woman wearing the necklace of
silver beads still kept apart. She sat on the unburned end of a fire log
and for a time paid no heed to the question her small son had repeated
many times. At last she looked up and said: "Do not ask again about the
baby with the blue eyes. Do not think of her. She does not cry for you.
She plays with little Creek pappooses. She is not your sister any more.
Go, play at shooting turkeys with black Jim. He loves you like a
brother."

The woman was the daughter of a chief. She had married a man of her own
tribe, but after he fell in battle she married a Scotch trader, named
Powell, who lived among the Creeks. When the time came for the flight of
the Red Sticks her heart turned to her people. She enjoyed too much the
glory of being a trader's wife to give up her