t here by the fire,
Girl-Child," to have the other reply, with equal decision:

"Kitty will take it to the out-doors."

"How? The papoose must eat her breakfast here, as I command."

"But Kitty must take it out the doors. What will the pigeons say? Come
with me, Other Mother."

Quite to her own astonishment, the proud daughter of a chief complied.
Superstition had suggested to her that this white-robed little
creature, with her trustful eyes and her wonderful hair, who seemed
rather to float over the space to the threshold than to tread upon the
earthen floor, was the re-embodied spirit of her own lost child come
back to comfort her sorrow and to be a power for good in her tribe.

But if the Sun Maid were a spirit, she had many earthly qualities; and
with a truly human carelessness she had no sooner stepped beyond the
tent flap than she let fall her heavy bowl and spilled her breakfast.
For there stood her last night's rescuer, his arms full of flowers.

"Oh, the posies! the posies! Nice Feather-man did bring them."

"Ugh! Black Partridge, the Truth-Teller. I have come to take my
leave. Also to ask you, my sister, shall I carry away the Sun Maid to
her own people? Or shall she abide with you?"

"Take her away, my brother? Do you not guess, then, who she is?"

"Why should I guess when I know. I saw her father die, and I stood
beside her mother's grave. The white papoose has neither tribe nor
kinsman."

"There for once the Truth-Teller speaks unwisely. The Sun Maid, whom
you found asleep on the path, is my own flesh and blood."

In surprise Black Partridge stared at the woman, whose face glowed
with delight. Then he reflected that it would be as well to leave her
undisturbed in her strange notion. The helpless little one would be
the better cared for, under such circumstances, and the time might
speedily come when she would need all the protection possible for
anybody to give.

"It is well--as you believe; yet then you are no longer the
Woman-Who-Mourns, but again Wahneenah, the Happy."

For a moment they silently regarded the child who had thrown herself
face downward upon the great heap of orchids that Black Partridge had
brought, and which he had risen very early to gather. They were of the
same sort that the little one had grieved over on the night before,
only much larger and fairer, and of far greater number. Talking to
the blossoms and caressing them as if they were human playmates, the
Sun Maid for