assistance.

"I want you to take my white boy-captive and lead him to the tepee of
the Woman-Who-Mourns. My wife Sorah will not have him in her wigwam.
She says that from the moment that other white child, the Sun Maid,
came to the lodge of Wahneenah, there has been trouble without end,
even though all the three charms against evil have been bestowed upon
her. There are no charms for this dark boy, but there's always trouble
enough (where Sorah is). He's so worn and unhappy, he'll make no
objection, but will follow like a dog. He neither speaks nor sleeps
nor eats. I have no use for a fool, I. You do it, Osceolo, and you'll
see what I will give you in reward! Also, if the Woman-Who-Mourns has
lost the Sun Maid, maybe this Dark-Eye will be a better stayer."

"But what will you give me, Man-Who-Kills? I--I think I'd rather not
meddle any more with the family of my chief."

"Ugh! Are a coward, eh? Never mind. There are other lads at
Muck-otey-pokee, and plenty of plunder in my wigwam."

"All right. Come along, Dark-Eye. Might as well be Dark-Brow, too, for
he looks like a night without stars. What will you do with his horse,
Man-Who-Kills?"

"Let you ride it for me, sometimes."

"I can do it"; and without further delay, leading the utterly passive
and disheartened Gaspar, the Indian lad set off for Wahneenah's home.
The captive had no expectation of anything but the most dreadful fate,
and his tired brain reeled at the remembrance of what he might yet
undergo. Yet, what use to resist?

Meanwhile, Osceolo, confident that all the braves whom he need fear
were still absent from the village, started his charge along the trail
at a rapid pace, and reached the wigwam of the Woman-Who-Mourns at
the very moment when Black Partridge, White Pelican, and the Sun Maid
came riding to it from the prairie.

She was alive, then! She was, in truth, a "spirit"! His
mischievousness had had no power to harm her, she was exempt from any
ill that might befall another, she had come back to--How could such an
innocent-appearing creature punish one who had so misled her?

He had no time to guess. For the child had caught sight of the stupid
lad he was leading, and with a cry of ecstacy had sprung from the
Snowbird and landed plump upon the prisoner's shoulders.

"Gaspar! My Gaspar, my Gaspar! Mine, mine, mine!"

It was a transformation scene. The white boy had staggered under
the unexpected assault of his old playmate, but he had inst