roused many a sleepy brown papoose, the fires were renewed, and the
evening meal was now preparing,--and Catharine, chilled by the falling
dew, crept to the enlivening warmth. And here she was pleased at
being recognised by one friendly face--it was the mild and benevolent
countenance of the widow Snowstorm, who, with her three sons, came to
bid her to share their camp fire and food. The kindly grasp of the hand,
the beaming smile that was given by this good creature, albeit she was
ugly and ill-featured, cheered the sad captive's heart. She had given
her a cup of cold water and what food her log-cabin afforded, and in
return the good Indian took her to her wigwam and fed, and warmed, and
cherished her with the loving-kindness of a Christian; and during all
her sojourn in the Indian camp she was as a tender mother over her,
drying her tears and showing her those little acts of attention that
even the untaught Indians know are grateful to the sorrowful and
destitute. Catharine often forgot her own griefs to repay this worthy
creature's kindness, by attending to her little babe and assisting her
in some of her homely preparations of cookery or household work. She
knew that a selfish indulgence in sorrow would do her no good, and after
the lapse of some days she so well disciplined her own heart as to check
her tears at least in the presence of the Indian women, and to assume an
air of comparative cheerfulness. Once she found Indian words enough to
ask the Indian widow to convey her back to the lake, but she shook her
head and bade her not think anything about it; and added, that in the
fall, when the ducks came to the rice-beds, they should all return, and
then if she could obtain leave from the chief, she would restore her to
her lodge on the plains; but signified to her that patience was her only
present remedy, and that submission to the will of the chief was her
wisest plan. Comforted by this vague promise, Catharine strove to be
reconciled to her strange lot, and still stranger companions. She could
not help being surprised at the want of curiosity respecting her that
was shown by the Indians in the wigwam, when she was brought thither;
they appeared to take little notice that a stranger and one so
dissimilar to themselves had been introduced into the camp, for before
her they asked no questions about her, whatever they might do when she
was absent, though they surveyed her with silent attention. Catharine
learned, by