ars; she would lead her out among the trees, and
name to her all the natural objects that presented themselves to view.
And she in her turn made "Indiana" (for so they named the young squaw,
after a negress that she had heard her father tell of, a nurse to one
of his Colonel's infant children,) tell her the Indian names for each
object they saw. Indiana soon began to enjoy in her turn the amusement
arising from instructing Catharine and the boys, and often seemed to
enjoy the blunders they made in pronouncing the words she taught them.
When really interested in anything that was going on, her eyes would
beam out, and her smile gave an inexpressible charm to her face, for her
lips were red and her teeth even and brilliantly white, so purely white
that Catharine thought she had never seen any so beautiful in her life
before; at such times her face was joyous and innocent as a little
child's, but there were also hours of gloom, that transformed it into an
expression of sullen apathy; then a dull glassy look took possession
of her eye, the full lip drooped and the form seemed rigid and stiff;
obstinate determination neither to move nor speak characterised her in
what Louis used to call the young squaw's "_dark hour._" Then it was
that the savage nature seemed predominant, and her gentle nurse almost
feared to look at her protegee or approach her.

"Hector," said Louis, "you spoke about a jar of water being left at the
camp; the jar would be a great treasure to us, let us go over for it."
Hector assented to the proposal. "And we may possibly pick up a few
grains of Indian corn, to add to what you showed us."

"If we are here in the spring," said Hector, "you and I will prepare a
small patch of ground and plant it with this corn;" and he sat down on
the end of a log and began carefully to count the rows of grain on the
cob, and then each corn grain by grain. "Three hundred and ten sound
grains. Now if every one of these produces a strong plant, we shall have
a great increase, and beside seed for another year, there will be, if it
is a good year, several bushels to eat."

"We shall have a glorious summer, mon ami, no doubt, and a fine
flourishing crop, and Kate is a good hand at making supporne."
_[FN: Supporne, probably an Indian word for a stir-about, or
porridge, made of Indian meal, a common dish in every Canadian or Yankee
farmer's house.]_

"You forget we have no porridge pot."

"I was thinking of that Indian jar al