-ina had taught him, and no one else played it in the
same way. Every dead gopher An-ina told him meant more food for the
pappoose on the Reserve. And it was the child's desire that the pappoose
on the Reserve should eat to repletion.

The game entailed the lighting of a fire. That in itself demanded a
hundred excited instructions to the faithful An-ina, who contrived the
fire unfailingly, in her quick Indian way, in spite of them. Then there
was the collection of dried grass which demanded a search and laborious
consideration as to its suitability. Then came the stuffing of it into a
score and more of the principal holes in the selected gopher warren.
During this operation strict silence had to be observed. Then the
crowning moment. Erect, alert, in his woolen jersey and the briefest of
knickers, the child took his stand in the centre, where, with youthful
optimism, he sought to take within his purview the numberless exits for
the panic-stricken quarry. With stick raised, and every nerve quivering
with excitement, he was there to do battle with the destructive foe.

So he waited whilst An-ina advanced with her fire brand. With rapid
breathing and shining eyes the hunter watched as each plugging of dried
grass was fired. The smoke, rising in a circle about him, left him a
picture like some child martyr being burned at the stake.

Her work completed An-ina stood looking on, her beautiful dusky face
wreathed in a smiling delight which the sight of the boy's happiness
never failed to inspire.

A wild shriek. A flourishing and slashing of the stick. A scuttle of
racing moccasined feet. The quarry had broken cover and the chase had
begun!

A dozen gophers with bristling tails bounded clear of the smoke ring.
They scattered in every direction. The boy was in pursuit. Shrieking,
laughing, slashing, headlong he ran, nimble as the gophers themselves.

It was wide open grassland, and An-ina contented herself with watching
from the distance. It was the boy's game. His was the chase. Hers was
the simple happiness of witnessing his enjoyment.

"Gee!"

An-ina started at the sound of the exclamation behind her. She turned,
and her movement had something of the swiftness of some wild animal. But
it was not a defensive movement. There was no apprehension in it. She
knew the voice. It was the voice she had been yearning to hear again for
something over two years.

"Boss Steve!" she cried, and there was that in her wide, soft ey