Quickly to the hard request the man replied, "How! I go if Tusee tells
me so!"

This delighted the little one, whose black eyes brimmed over with light.
Standing in front of the strong man, she clapped her small, brown hands
with joy.

"That makes me glad! My heart is good! Go, uncle, and bring a handsome
pony!" she cried. In an instant she would have frisked away, but an
impulse held her tilting where she stood. In the man's own tongue, for
he had taught her many words and phrases, she exploded, "Thank you, good
uncle, thank you!" then tore away from sheer excess of glee.

The proud warrior father, smiling and narrowing his eyes, muttered
approval, "Howo! Hechetu!"

Like her mother, Tusee has finely pencilled eyebrows and slightly
extended nostrils; but in her sturdiness of form she resembles her
father.

A loyal daughter, she sits within her tepee making beaded deerskins for
her father, while he longs to stave off her every suitor as all unworthy
of his old heart's pride. But Tusee is not alone in her dwelling. Near
the entrance-way a young brave is half reclining on a mat. In silence he
watches the petals of a wild rose growing on the soft buckskin. Quickly
the young woman slips the beads on the silvery sinew thread, and works
them into the pretty flower design. Finally, in a low, deep voice, the
young man begins:

"The sun is far past the zenith. It is now only a man's height above the