t and measured footsteps on the snow,
and the curtain that hung in the doorway of their lodge was slowly
lifted. Two shadowy figures entered--two women, who seemed strangers in
the village; and, without a word, they took their seats in the darkest
corner of the wigwam and crouched there silently and sadly, shivering
with cold. Their faces were very white, their clothes were thin and
torn, and they would not answer anything that Nokomis or Minnehaha said
to them.

Was it the wind blowing down the smoke-flue, or was it the hooting of
the owl that made both Minnehaha and Nokomis think that they heard a
voice come out of the darkness and say to them: "These are dead people
that sit before you and share your fire! They are ghosts from the Land
of the Hereafter, who have come to haunt you!" At all events they
thought that such a voice cried out to them, and they were very much
afraid when Hiawatha entered, fresh from hunting, and laid the red deer
he had been carrying at the feet of Minnehaha.

Never before did Hiawatha appear so handsome, and Minnehaha thought him
even nobler than when he came to woo her by the waterfall in the land of
the Dacotahs.

Turning Hiawatha saw the two strange guests who had not said a word when
he had entered, but crouched silently in the darkest corner of the
wigwam, with their hoods drawn over their white faces. Only their eyes
gleamed like dull coals as they gazed upon the firelight. But Hiawatha
did not ask a single question, although he wondered greatly, and he set
about preparing the deer for their evening meal.

When the meat was ready, the two guests, still without saying a word,
sprang like wolves from their corners, seized upon the choicest parts,
the white fat that Hiawatha had saved for Minnehaha, and retreated with
their portions back to the shadow of their corner. And although Hiawatha
and Minnehaha and Nokomis were amazed by the strange actions of their
guests, they did not show it by word or look, but acted as if nothing
had happened. Only Minnehaha found time to whisper to Hiawatha: "They
are famished; let them eat of what they will."

Many days passed, and the two strange women still sat cowering in their
corner of the wigwam; but at night, when everybody slept, they went out
into the gloomy forest and brought back wood and pine-cones for the
fire. Whenever Hiawatha returned from hunting or fishing, and the
evening meal had been prepared, they would leap from their dark corn