Soothing my impatience, my mother said aloud, "My little daughter is
anxious to hear your legends." By this time all were through eating, and
the evening was fast deepening into twilight.

As each in turn began to tell a legend, I pillowed my head in my
mother's lap; and lying flat upon my back, I watched the stars as they
peeped down upon me, one by one. The increasing interest of the tale
aroused me, and I sat up eagerly listening to every word. The old women
made funny remarks, and laughed so heartily that I could not help
joining them.

The distant howling of a pack of wolves or the hooting of an owl in the
river bottom frightened me, and I nestled into my mother's lap. She
added some dry sticks to the open fire, and the bright flames leaped up
into the faces of the old folks as they sat around in a great circle.

On such an evening, I remember the glare of the fire shone on a tattooed
star upon the brow of the old warrior who was telling a story. I watched
him curiously as he made his unconscious gestures. The blue star upon
his bronzed forehead was a puzzle to me. Looking about, I saw two
parallel lines on the chin of one of the old women. The rest had none. I
examined my mother's face, but found no sign there.

After the warrior's story was finished, I asked the old woman the
meaning of the blue lines on her chin, looking all the while out of the
corners of my eyes at the warrior with the star on his forehead. I was a
little afraid that he would rebuke me for my boldness.

Here the old woman began: "Why, my grandchild, they are signs,--secret
signs I dare not tell you. I shall, however, tell you a wonderful story