ious
observances. They had lingered several days beyond their time for the
purpose of conjuring. In fact at this very moment the big medicine lodge
raised itself in the centre of the encampment like a miniature circus
tent. Sam Bolton addressed the two in their own language.

"We wish to buy many moccasins of your old women," said Sam.

Immediately one of the Indians glided away. From time to time during the
next few minutes he was intermittently visible as he passed from the
dark interior of one wigwam, across the sunlight, and into the dark
interior of another.

The older of the two still in company of the white men began to ask
questions.

"The Little Father is about to make a long journey?"

"Does one buy so many moccasins for a short?"

"He goes to hunt the fur?"

"Perhaps."

"In what direction does he set the bow of his canoe?"

Suddenly Dick Herron, who had, as usual, been paying attention to almost
anything rather than the matter in hand, darted suddenly toward a clump
of grass. In a moment he straightened his back to hold at arm's length a
struggling little boy. At the instant of his seizure the child uttered a
sharp cry of fright, then closed his lips in the stoicism of his race.

That one cry was enough, however. Rescue darted from the nearest wigwam.
A flying figure covered the little distance in a dozen graceful leaps,
snatched the child from the young man's hands and stood, one foot
advanced, breast heaving, a palpitating, wild thing, like a symbol of
defiance.

The girl belonged distinctly to the more attractive type; it required
but little imagination to endow her with real beauty. Her figure was
straight and slim and well-proportioned, her eyes large, her face oval
and quite devoid of the broad, high-cheeked stupidity so common in
the northern races. At the moment she flashed like a brand with
quick-breathed anger and fear.

[Illustration: The child uttered a sharp cry of fright]

Dick looked at her at first with amazement, then with mingled admiration
and mischief. He uttered a ferocious growl and lowered his shoulders as
though about to charge. Immediately the defiance broke. The girl turned
and fled, plunging like a rabbit into the first shelter that offered,
pursued by shrieks of delight from the old squaws, a pleased roar from
Dick, and the laughter of the Indian men themselves.

"May-may-gwan[2]," said the oldest Indian, naming her, "foster sister to
the boy you had caught."

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