"Dreams have been with me. They were many and strange. Is this
another?"

"This a glad reality. It is the Sun Maid. She has no parents. You have
no child. She is yours. Take her and learn to laugh once more as in
the days that are gone."

Then he held the little creature toward her; and still amazed, but
still obedient, the heart-broken squaw extended her arms and received
the unconscious foundling. As the warm, soft flesh touched her own a
thrill passed through her desolate heart, and all the tenderness of
motherhood returned.

"Who is she? Whence did she come? Where will she go?"

"She is the Sun Maid. From the Fort by the great lake, where are still
white men enough to die--as die they must. For there is treachery
afoot, and they who were first treacherous must bear their own
punishment. Only she shall be saved; and where she will go is in the
power of the Woman-Who-Mourns, and of her alone."

Without another word, and leaving the still blazing fagot lying on the
earthen floor, the chief went swiftly away.

But he had brought fresh air and light and comfort with him, as he had
prophesied. The small Sun Maid was already brightening the dusky lodge
as might an actual ray from her glorious namesake.

It was proof of her utter exhaustion that she still slept soundly
while her new foster-mother prepared a bed of softest furs spread over
fresh green branches and went hurriedly out to beg from a neighbor
squaw a draught of evening's milk. This action in itself was
sufficiently surprising to set all tongues a-chatter.

The lodge of Muck-otey-pokee had many of the comforts common to the
white men's settlements. Its herd of cattle even surpassed that at
Fort Dearborn itself, and was a matter of no small pride to the
Pottawatomie villagers. From the old mission fathers they had learned,
also, some useful arts, and wherever their prairie lands were tilled a
rich result was always obtainable.

So it was to a home of plenty, as well as safety, that Black Partridge
had brought the little Sun Maid; and when she at length awoke to see a
dusky face, full of wonderment and love, bending above her, she put
out her arms and gurgled in a glee which brought an answering smile to
lips that had not smiled for long.

With an instinct of yearning tenderness, the Woman-Who-Mourns had
lightened her sombre attire by all the devices possible, so that
while the child slept she had transformed herself. She had neatly
plaited her heavy h