moke-hole. And
while he arranged the sticks carefully upon a twist of grass, the aged
crone hovered, hawk-like, over him, ready with fist or foot for any lack
of haste, or failure with the fire. Not until, with flint and steel, he
lighted a strip of spongy wood and thrust it under the dry hay, and a
flame leaped up and caught the soot on a hanging kettle, did she leave
him and go on a quest for breakfast rations.

The pariah had not dared to lift his eyes from his task while the hag
was watching. But now he stole a swift glance toward the back of the
lodge, where the maid, Brown Mink, was reclining, and his dull eyes,
like the fuel at his knees, leaped into sudden flame. But, with the
deftness of a woman, he kept on putting bits of wood into the mounting
blaze.

Brown Mink did not look his way. She lay on a slanting frame of saplings
held together by a network of thongs. The gay blanket on which she had
ridden during the march was folded under her. A buffalo-robe was spread
over her bead-wrought leggins and shoes, its hairy side under, its
tanned face, which was gaudily painted, uppermost. Festoonings of beads
fell from her neck to the top of her richly embroidered skirt, and heavy
ear-drops of gilt pushed through the purple-black masses of her hair.

Squaw Charley fed his sight gladly with her loveliness, thankful that
she, who once had looked upon him kindly, did not now turn to see his
squalor. The blaze was thawing his chilled limbs and fast warming him,
the brass pot was singing merrily. He kept his hands gratefully near it,
and as, from time to time, the girl held up her arms admiringly to let
the firelight shine upon her bracelets and pinchbeck rings, he watched
her furtively from half-closed eyes.

But not for long. Afraid-of-a-Fawn soon returned with meat and meal and,
cursing, ordered him away.

"Off, Ojibway coward," she cried; "to the dogs. But see that there is
wood for to-night's cooking and tomorrow's."

The pariah gave the fire under the kettle a last touch, and slunk out
hastily into the snow. The hag pursued him, moving backward and pulling
after her the partly dressed hide of a black-tailed deer.

"Make it ready for the cutting-board," she bade, and threw the piece of
hard stone for the fleshing so that it split the pariah's cheek.

Squaw Charley took up the hide and dug in the snow for the stone.

A young warrior was lingering at the lodge flap, blowing spirals of
kinnikinick. He burst into