that Nakanit and her mother were nearly ready for a
journey. The two baskets were near the door, the roll of blankets beside
them, well tied up with stout thongs of deerskin, and the little brush
wigwam had nothing else in it.

The Indian girl stood with her dark eyes fixed on Anne, and the squaw
talked rapidly for a few moments, evidently giving the girl information
or directions; then she lifted the smaller of the two baskets, and
fastened its deerskin strap over Nakanit's shoulders. The roll of
blankets and the other basket she carried herself.

"Follow," she said to Anne; "we journey toward Wellfleet and you can go
with us."

Anne's face brightened, and she began to feel that her troubles were
over. She picked up her own bundle and followed the squaw and the Indian
girl out through the woods and across a meadow where a few cattle were
feeding.

"This must be Truro," Anne thought to herself as she trudged silently on
beside her new friends.

It grew very warm and there was no shade, and Anne began to feel tired,
but neither Nakanit nor her mother seemed to notice the heat. It was
past noon before they made any stop, and as Anne, who was some distance
behind her companions, saw the squaw turn toward a little wooded hill
and begin to lower the basket from her shoulders, she gave a long tired
sigh of relief. Nakanit heard and turned toward her, and reached out her
free hand to take Anne's bundle. But Anne shook her head, and tightened
her hold on it. This seemed to anger the Indian girl, and with a surly
word she gave Anne a push, sending her over into a clump of wild rose
bushes. As Anne reached out to save herself the thorns scratched her
hands and arms and she cried out. The squaw turned, and, as she had not
seen the push, thought that Anne had stumbled, and began to laugh at her
and to mock her cries. This delighted Nakanit, who joined in so loudly
that Anne stopped in terrified amazement, and scrambled out as well as
she could. Her feet ached, and she could hardly walk, but she went on
behind Nakanit into the pleasant shade of the woods, and here her
companions set down their baskets, and threw themselves down to rest.
Anne looked at them a little fearfully; they had not spoken one word to
her since leaving the wigwam.

The squaw opened the basket and gave each of the girls some of the corn
bread, which they devoured hungrily. "There are berries over there," she
said briefly, pointing toward the slope, "and