useless. Busy yourself. Pile wood upon the fire and put water in that
kettle. My son and I are hungry and would eat, and the meat must yet
be cooked."

With The Stone's words came a blow on Timid Hare's shoulder. It was
the first one the child had ever felt, and though it did not strike
hard upon the body, it fell with heavy weight upon her aching heart.

Stumbling about, she tried to do the old squaw's bidding, and the two
soon had the supper ready. The Stone now served her son on his side of
the fireplace, after which she herself began to eat her fill while
Swift Fawn sat huddled in a dark comer, hungrily watching.

"Take that," the woman said as she finished her meal, and she threw a
half-picked bone to the little girl. Then she got up, put away
whatever food was left from the supper, and began to spread out some
buffalo skins, first for her son's bed on his side of the tepee, then
on her own side for herself to sleep on.

"You can lie where you are," she told Timid Hare, pointing to the pile
of skins on which the child was crouching.

Soon afterwards The Stone and Black Bull were quietly sleeping, while
the little captive, with tears rolling down her cheeks, lay thinking of
the kind friends far away and of the dreadful things that might happen
on the morrow. All at once she remembered the baby's sock hidden in
her dress, and of White Mink's words. Perhaps--perhaps--the sock would
help her. But how? She must guard it, at any rate; not even The Stone
should discover it. Kind sleep was already drawing near. The tired
eyes no longer shed tears. Till morning should come, Timid Hare was