busy at one side of the
lodge pounding wild rice into flour. "Go, you cowardly
good-for-nothing. Let the chief discover what I have borne."

Timid Hare was almost overcome with delight. To serve the beautiful
maiden, Sweet Grass! It seemed too good to be true.

Yet it must be true, for The Stone, with uplifted arms, was fairly
driving her from the lodge as she would a troublesome mosquito.

As the little girl passed through the doorway she met Black Bull
entering, with Smoke at his heels. Over the youth's eyes swept a cloud
of fear at the unusual brightness in the little girl's face. He felt
instantly that she was going to leave him. Sad as she had been, she
had brought a little sunshine into the dreary home.

"Good-bye, Black Bull," she whispered. "I will not forget you." Then,
without a last glance at The Stone, she hurried on after the messenger
who had come for her.

When she reached the chief's lodge, there was Sweet Grass waiting for
her with a kind smile. The maiden's mother, whom she had never seen
before, was also in the lodge. The squaw was busily cooking the
evening meal like any other red woman, though her husband was the chief
of the whole band.

Sweet Grass had just motioned to the little girl to take her place
beside her, when Young Antelope burst into the tepee. The day before
he had gone hunting, and when night came had not appeared. His mother
and sister had worried at his absence, but the chief had said, "We will
not fear. The lad has no doubt lost his way. But he knows how to care
for himself."

And now Young Antelope stood once more in the home, safe and happy! He
had had an exciting adventure, and was eager to tell of it. Yes, he
had lost his way out on the prairies. He was ashamed of this, for he
had been taught that an Indian should always watch the winds and the
heavens, and carefully mark every change in the appearance of the
country over which he travels; then it is an easy matter to find his
way back without trouble.

But his pony was fleet of foot, and the birds he was seeking flew fast.
After many, many miles had been covered and his game bag had been
filled, he decided to return. But he was hungry; he thought of the
tender birds he had killed and of the feast they would make.

"I will rest for awhile and cook some of the game," he decided.

All this he now told his mother on his return home. So eager was he to
describe his adventure that he did not notice th