girl bent over and laid her cheek against the fawn's head;
then reluctantly she moved away, hoping and yet dreading that the mother
would return. She crouched under a clump of bushes near by, and gave the
doe call. It was a reckless thing for her to do, for such a call might
bring upon her a mountain lion or ever-watchful silvertip; but Snana did
not think of that.

In a few minutes she heard the light patter of hoofs, and caught a
glimpse of a doe running straight toward the fawn's hiding-place. When
she stole near enough to see, the doe and the fawn were examining one
another carefully, as if fearing some treachery. At last both were
apparently satisfied. The doe caressed her natural child, and the little
one accepted the milk she offered.

In the Sioux maiden's mind there was turmoil. A close attachment to the
little wild creature had already taken root there, contending with the
sense of justice that was strong within her. Now womanly sympathy for
the mother was in control, and now a desire to possess and protect her
helpless pet.

"I can take care of her against all hunters, both animal and human. They
are ever ready to seize the helpless fawn for food. Her life will be
often exposed. You cannot save her from disaster. O, Takcha, my sister,
let me still keep her for you!" she finally appealed to the poor doe,
who was nervously watching the intruder, and apparently thinking how she
might best escape with the fawn.

Just at this moment there came a low call from the wood. It was a doe
call; but the wild mother and her new friend both knew that it was not
the call of a real doe.

"It is a Sioux hunter!" whispered the girl. "You must go, my sister! Be
off; I will take your child to safety!"

While she was yet speaking, the doe seemed to realize the danger. She
stopped only an instant to lick fondly the tawny coat of the little one,
who had just finished her dinner; then she bounded away.

As Snana emerged from the bushes with her charge, a young hunter met her
face to face, and stared at her curiously. He was not of her father's
camp, but a stranger.

"Ugh, you have my game."

"Tosh!" she replied coquettishly.

It was so often said among the Indians that the doe was wont to put on
human form to mislead the hunter, that it looked strange to see a woman
with a fawn, and the young man could not forbear to gaze upon Snana.

"You are not the real mother in maiden's guise? Tell me truly if you are
of human blo