ied Olive and
fed her, knowing that if the girl ran away from her now she would not be
able to go back the way they had come. She must be lost and could not
fail to perish from hunger and thirst. Still Laska guarded her closely.

On the morning of the third day of their journeying, Olive saw on the
far horizon some curling wreaths of smoke. Nearer there were a few lean
horses grazing on the scanty sage grass. A dozen Indian tepees were set
up in what seemed a small oasis in the desert. She knew that Laska had
brought her to the winter quarters of a small band of Indians who would
not stay in a village overlooked and regulated by the United States
Government. These Indians lived the old nomad life, wandering from place
to place, setting up their tents like gypsies, wherever they could
remain unmolested.

Olive almost gave up hope. Here in the wilderness she would never come
in contact with any one from the outside world. When the spring came,
the Indians would gather up their belongings and wander farther away,
taking her with them, where she could have no chance of return.

Laska and Olive had a tent of their own. In it they lived for some time,
rarely speaking to one another. Nobody was unkind to her and for some
reason Laska left her alone. It was growing bitterly cold and the old
woman used to sit smoking all day by the fire, either in her own wigwam
or one nearby. She did not try to watch Olive, knowing that she could
not get away. Laska had told her that she should never leave the Indians
again; that they would return no more to the neighborhood of the white
men and Olive seemed quietly to accept her fate. Even Laska, who had
trained the girl in her own school of silence, was deceived by her. She
thought that Olive no longer cared enough to go back to dare the perils
of the trip.

At first it did appear utterly impossible to Olive. She had not the
faintest idea in what direction she and Laska had traveled and on
arriving among the Indians, her pony had been taken away from her. She
had no food except the little bit she was allowed each day, barely
enough to live on and knew that at any time now, the swift and bitter
snowstorms of the prairies might fall. Any traveler caught out in one of
them would surely perish and not be found until the snow melted.

There were many hours, when Olive thought she would run away anyhow and
take whatever fate came to her. But the memory of Jack, and Jean and
Frieda, Cousin Ruth