l, his daughter. She looked
kindly at Swift Fawn as if to say: "Do not fear,
little girl."

"Behold, a child of the Mandans. I give her
into your hands, great Chief," said Swift Fawn's
captor to the brave by the fireside.

Bent Horn seemed in no hurry to speak, as
he looked keenly at the child who could not lift
her eyes for fear.

"Is the girl of the weak Mandans to live, or to
be a slave among our people?" asked the warrior.

Bent Horn was about to answer, as his
daughter broke in: "Father, let her live. I wish
it."

The Chief turned toward the young girl with
love in his eyes. He smiled as he said, "Sweet
Grass shall have her wish."

His face became stern, however, as he added:
"That shrinking creature must be trained. Give
her into the keeping of The Stone, and let this
girl henceforth be known as Timid Hare."

As Bent Horn spoke he motioned to Swift
Fawn's captor to take her away, and the man at
once led her out of the lodge and through the
camp to a small tepee on the outskirts, where
the old woman, The Stone, lived with her
deformed son, Black Bull.

THE NEW HOME

Drawing aside the heavy buffalo-skin curtain which covered the doorway,
the man shoved his little captive inside and followed close behind her.

"Ugh, Timid Hare," he said scornfully. "This is your new home. Does
it please you?"

The child shuddered without answering, as she mustered courage to look
about her. The fire on the hearth in the middle of the tepee was
smouldering. With the help of its dim light the little girl could see
piles of dirty buffalo robes on either side; the walls of the tent,
also made of buffalo skins, were blackened by smoke. Long shadows
stretching across the floor, seemed to take on fearful shapes in the
child's fancy as the low fire, now and then, gave a sudden leap upward.
Furthermore, the tepee was empty,--no face looked out from any corner;
no voice spoke to the new-comers.

"Ugh!" The man shrugged his shoulders as he grunted in displeasure.
He was in haste to get to his own lodge where a supper of bear steak
was no doubt awaiting him.

"Where can The Stone be that she is not here, now that darkness covers
the earth?" he muttered. "And the crooked boy away too!"

The sentence was barely ended when the sound of quick, soft footsteps
could be heard outside. The Stone and her son, Black Bull, were
hurrying home. They had been gone all day, having gone to a clay pit
miles away from