was something human and known; and amazingly
cheering. They covered the last lap at a brisk pace.

Five tepees, faintly phosphorescent with interior fires, stood in a line
where the pine trees bounded the hay marsh. Garth's mind was relieved to
find Pake waiting with the balance of the outfit intact. The fire they
had seen was from an armful of brush lighted for a beacon to guide
them. The people were all within. The three breed boys dived into the
principal tepee without ceremony, leaving Garth and Natalie standing
rather foolishly outside. They were evidently expected to follow; for
presently a head was stuck inquiringly outside; and what they took
for an invitation to enter was delivered in Cree.

"Let us go in," whispered Natalie. "I'm crazy to see what it's like!"

Without more ado, she lifted the flap which covered the entrance, and
crawled, blinking, into the light, Garth close at her heels.

A fire was built on the ground in the centre of the tepee; and the
smoke, filling the apex, finally found itself out at the top. Around
the fire was grouped a motley, gipsy crew of all ages; the elders in the
place of honour above the fire; the children by the door. The firelight
threw their copper-coloured faces into strong relief; each wore an
expression of stolid expectation. Stolidity is the pet affectation
of the breed; at heart he is as garrulous as an ape. Like mongrels
generally, their manners were bad; a grunt served for welcome, and
places were coolly pointed out where they should sit.

With that the guests were forthwith yielded up to discussion, while the
whole circle stared at them as if they were vegetables. In especial, the
children sitting across the fire, transfixed them with eyes, under each
mop of raven hair, as hard, bright and unwinking as the eyes of little
birds of prey. Young Pake sat at the right hand of the principal man--a
personage in frayed overalls and cotton shirt, with a scarlet handkerchief
about his temples--and called attention to the points of the two
_moon-i-yas_ like their showman. After all the elders had partaken of
tea, somebody recollected to thrust the battered pot at Garth and Natalie,
with two more than doubtful tin cups. They declined to partake.

Garth was fuming. "Let's get out," he whispered.

"Just a minute," Natalie begged, with bright eyes. "Never mind their
manners. It's all so strange and different!"

Presently the preparations for retiring, which their arrival had