led
off. They might even then have succeeded, only her pony broke away, and
she clung to Eagle Wing's until he--he had to hit her to make her let
go.

The wild girl, in a fury declared it false from end to end. The poor
woman, weeping by her side, bowed her head and declared it doubtless
true.

Her story,--Mrs. Hay's,--was saddest of all. Her own father died when
she was very, very young. He was a French Canadian trader and traveller
who had left them fairly well to do. Next to her Indian mother, Mrs. Hay
had loved no soul on earth as she had her pretty baby sister. The girls
grew up together. The younger, petted and spoiled, fell in love with a
handsome, reckless young French half breed, Jean La Fleur; against all
warnings, became his wife, and was soon bullied, beaten and deserted.
She lived but a little while, leaving to her more prosperous and
level-headed sister, now wedded to Mr. Hay, their baby daughter, also
named Nanette, and by her the worthy couple had done their very best.
Perhaps it would have been wiser had they sent the child away from all
association with the Sioux, but she had lived eight years on the Laramie
in daily contact with them, sharing the Indian sports and games, loving
their free life, and rebelling furiously when finally taken East. "She"
was the real reason why her aunt spent so many months of each succeeding
year away from her husband and the frontier. One of the girl's playmates
was a magnificent young savage, a son of Crow Killer, the famous chief.
The father was killed the day of Crazy Horse's fierce assault on the
starving force of General Crook at Slim Buttes in '76, and good, kind
missionary people speedily saw promise in the lad, put him at school and
strove to educate him. The rest they knew. Sometimes at eastern schools,
sometimes with Buffalo Bill, but generally out of money and into
mischief, Eagle Wing went from one year to another, and Nanette,
foolishly permitted to meet him again in the East, had become
infatuated. All that art and education, wealth, travel and luxury
combined could do, was done to wean her from her passionate adoration of
this superb young savage. There is no fiercer, more intense, devotion
than that the Sioux girl gives the warrior who wins her love. She
becomes his abject slave. She will labor, lie, steal, sin, suffer, die,
_gladly_ die for him, if only she believes herself loved in turn, and
this did Nanette more than believe, and believing, slaved and