whole hours before sunset! It seemed too good
to be true. Never had such a thing happened to the child since she
left the home of the Mandans.

Without wasting a moment, Timid Hare got the snowshoes and left the
tepee. For a moment she looked about her to see if any other little
girl would like to join her in a skim over the fields. But all seemed
busy at their games, and even now she was not enough at home with any
one of them to ask them to leave their own play and go off with her, a
captive.

So, binding on the shoes, she started off alone. What fun it was to
move so fast and so smoothly! How clear was the air! How delightful
it was to feel the blood rushing freely through every part of her body!
Her cheeks tingled pleasantly; her heart beat with joy.

Mile after mile the child darted on in the opposite direction from that
taken by the hunters in the morning. So happy, so free felt the child
that she forgot how far she was travelling. Sometimes there were
little rolls in the land. She would get up her speed as she approached
them, so as to have force enough to reach the summit of a roll with
ease. And then what fun it was to travel like the wind down the other
side!

On, on, on! and then suddenly, Timid Hare came to herself. Where was
the village? In what direction? Could she not see smoke rising
somewhere behind her, telling of the fires burning in the homes of the
people?

There was nothing, nothing, to guide her back--only some fields
apparently untrodden in every direction. So light was the little
girl's body that her shoes had rarely pressed through the crust. The
short winter day was near its end. A bank of clouds was gathering
about the setting sun, they told of an approaching storm; so also spoke
the chill wind that blew in the child's face.

Fright clutched at Timid Hare's heart. She thought of the power of the
storm-king. Here, in the snowy wilderness, it seemed that she must
perish. Was there no one to turn to in this time of danger? Yes.

"Help me, Great Spirit," cried the child, lifting her hands towards the
sky where she believed He dwelt.

With that cry came a feeling that somehow her prayer would be answered.
And at the same time Timid Hare remembered the little sock which she
always carried in her bosom. She pressed a hand against the place
where it should rest. Yes, it was safe.

"White Mink had faith in it. So will I," Timid Hare said to herself.
Many a time duri