ed.

"Hey!" he hailed her, without getting up. "Come see what I got."

Ki and Betty were now excellent friends, the taciturn Indian
apparently recognizing that her interest in his stories and Indian
tales was unfeigned.

"Why, what is it?" she asked, stopping in amazement as her foot
touched a furry body. "Is it a dog? Oh, Ki, you didn't kill a dog?"

"No, not a dog," said the Indian showing his white teeth in a grin
which was the nearest he ever permitted himself to come to a laugh.
"Not a dog--a fox. I shot him last night. He would eat Mis'
Watterby's chickens."

"So that was what I heard," Betty said, recalling the noise that had
wakened her. "Bob, come and see the fox Ki shot."

Bob came running over to the woodshed, and appraised the reddish
yellow body admiringly.

"Gee, he was a big one, wasn't he?" he murmured. "When'd you shoot
him, Ki? Last night? I didn't hear anything. Stealing chickens, I'll
bet a feather."

Ki nodded, and displayed a shining knife.

"You watch," he told them. "I skin him, and cure the fur--then I give
it to Miss Betty. Make her a nice what you call neck-piece next
winter."

"Oh, don't skin him!" Betty involuntarily shuddered. "I couldn't bear
to watch you do that. He will bleed, and I'll think it hurts him.
Poor little fox--I hate to see dead things!"

Her lips quivered, and Ki looked hurt.

"You no want a neck-piece?" he asked, bewildered. "Very nice young
ladies wear them. I have seen."

Betty smiled at him through the tears that would come.

"I would love to have the fur," she explained. "Only I'm such a
coward I can't bear to see you skin the fox. I heard a man say once
that women are all alike--we don't care if animals are killed to give
us clothes, but we want some one else to do the killing."

Somewhat to her surprise, Ki seemed to understand.

"Bob help me skin him," he announced quietly. "You go in. When the
fur is dry and clean, you have it for your neck-piece."

Betty thanked him and ran away to tell Mr. Gordon and Grandma
Watterby of her present. A handsome fox skin was not to be despised,
and Betty was all girl when it came to pretty clothes and furs.

Ki and Bob came in to breakfast, and the talk turned to the oil fire.
Mr. Gordon generously invited as many as could get into his machine
to go, but Mrs. Price could not stand excitement and the Watterbys
were too busy to indulge in that luxury. Will Watterby offered to let
Ki go, but the Indian had a cur