the door, but he was close enough for her
to detect the fumes of the liquor he had drank, and she knew a savage
was never so dangerous as when in a half-intoxicated condition.

"Have you come a long distance?" she asked.

"Good ways--live up north."

"You are not a Sioux, then?"

"No--don't like Sioux--bad people."

"Why do you come in their neighborhood--in their country?"

"'Cause I want to--_come see you_."

"You must come again--"

At this juncture, the child in the cradle awoke and began crying. The
face of the savage assumed an expression of ferocity, and he said,
abruptly:

"Stop noise--me tomahawk if don't."

As he spoke he laid his hand in a threatening manner upon his
tomahawk, and the mother sprung up and lifted the infant in her arms
for the purpose of pacifying it. The dreadful threat had almost
unnerved her, for she believed the savage would carry it out upon the
slightest pretext. But before that tomahawk should reach her child,
the mother must be stricken to the earth. She pressed it convulsively
to her breast, and it quickly ceased its cries. She waited until it
closed its eyes in slumber and then some impulse prompted her to lay
it upon the bed, and to place herself between it and the Indian, so
that she might be unimpeded in her movements if the savage should
attempt harm to her or her offspring.

Several moments now passed without the Indian speaking. The interval
was occupied by him in looking around the room and examining every
portion upon which it was possible to rest his gaze. The survey
completed, he once more fixed his scrutiny upon the young wife, and
suddenly spoke in his sententious, abrupt manner.

"Want sunkin eat."

This question was a relief, for it afforded the wife an opportunity of
expressing her kindness; but, at the same time, it caused a more rapid
beating of her heart, since to procure what was asked, she would be
compelled to pass out of the door, and thus not only approach him much
more closely than she was willing, but it would be necessary to leave
him alone with her infant until her return.

She was in a painful dilemma, to decide whether it was best to refuse
the visitor's request altogether or to comply with it, trusting to
Providence to protect them both. A casual glance at the Indian
convinced her that it would be dangerous to thwart his wishes
longer; and, with an inward prayer to God, she arose and approached
the door. As she passed near him, he mov