sper of warning that came to him
regarding Red Dog, but Mrs. Plodder's merry peal of laughter reassured
him, as he whirled to confront what proved to be the foe. There on the
porch without, crouching low, shading their eyes with their broad brown
paws, their painted faces almost flattened against the window, three
Indians, a brave and two squaws,--all innocent of any violation of
etiquette or decorum, but just as their kith and kin and instincts
taught them,--were staring hungrily into the room. To Eastern readers it
would have seemed bare, homely, plain in the last degree; to the
untutored minds of these children of the prairie it spoke of wealth,
luxury, and plenty. Peering over the shoulders of one of the squaws,
from its perch on her toil-bowed back, was a wee pappoose, its beady
little black eyes gleaming, its tiny face expressive of emotions that
in later years it would speedily learn to suppress,--wonderment and
interest. A thinly-clad girl of five or six clung to the mother with one
hand and clutched her little blanket with the other. They all looked
cold and hungry, and the big eyes wore that dumb, professionally
pathetic look which these born beggars are adepts in assuming.

"Go 'way! Scat!" called Mrs. Plodder, with appropriate gesticulation as
she waved them aside. "You're darkening the room." But for answer the
visitors only huddled the closer and mournfully patted and rubbed the
region of their stomachs. Davies, laughing, went to the door and called
them in, which signal they promptly obeyed, and came trooping smilingly
after the stalking warrior, who took the lead as he would have taken
anything else. Mira by this time had backed into a corner, where she
cowered in terror, but Mrs. Plodder laughingly shook hands with the man
as Davies passed them in, and then blockaded him in an opposite corner
where he could not lay hands on anything they might give the squaws and
children. He wanted to shake hands with Mira, too, but she implored them
to keep him away. Davies took the little girl by the arm and led her to
his wife. "Do look at her, dear, and see what a pretty, intelligent face
she has. I want you to know how really friendly they mean to be." And
still Mira shrank and trembled. The younger woman was a Minneconjou
girl, with frank, attractive, almost pretty face. She dropped her
blanket from her head and let it fall about her calico-covered
shoulders, smiling affably about her, but eying the breakfast thin