mask
for his feelings. And Sitting Bull was shivering, but not with cold or
excitement; he had caught the dying look of the doe. And Bull's ugly
face reflected the feelings of his heart, that was both brave and
gentle, for actually, yes, actually! there were tears in Bull's eyes.

The canoe was brought to shore, the water was dumped out of it, the
paddles were recovered. Then a rope was fastened to Mr. Deer, and by
means of a log lever he was hauled out of the lake and dressed. But
Injun didn't talk and Whitey didn't talk. And Bull didn't wander around
as usual and smell the scents that gave him so much excitement and
delight, and that the boys couldn't smell at all. The deer's head, hide,
and some of the meat were put into the canoe. The rest of the meat was
tied high in trees, safe from marauding animals. The boys didn't touch
Miss Deer. They got into the canoe with Bull and paddled away. They
didn't look back.

The rest of the day and evening were spent in a constrained silence.
Sitting Bull felt the constraint. He lay on the ground, his great head
between his paws, and moodily watched the boys. Several hours had
passed; it was night, at the camp-fire; still no words had been spoken.
Finally Whitey stopped looking into the fire and stood up straight.

"Injun, where's the spade?" he asked. "I've got something to do."

Injun answered Whitey's question, but asked none of his own. "Me go
help," he said.

With Sitting Bull as a passenger, they paddled the canoe back over the
moonlit lake until they came to the run. And the two boys dug a grave
for Miss Deer, and laid her in that grave just as she fell, and covered
it with a pile of stones so the coyotes couldn't touch her. And when the
morning sun came up over the hills, Injun and Whitey were in a new camp
miles away.

Injun said nothing to Whitey and Whitey said nothing to Injun, but to
the day of his death Injun never shot at a Miss Deer again. And although
Whitey is now a middle-aged man, to this day he has never again shot at
a Miss Deer. Nor has he ever forgotten the look in the eyes of that Miss
Deer which those boys buried on the bank of Blue Lake, twenty-six years
ago.

THE END

"_The Books You Like to Read at the Price You Like to Pay_"

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