She reached for her willow switch and used it twice on Timid Hare's
back.

"I have a nice little task for you," she said. "Do you see this?" She
pointed to a dish full of a dull red dye. "It is for you," she
continued. "No more pale-faces about us now. You are to take this dye
and paint yourself--every part of your body, mind you. Then, when you
have used this on your hair--" she pointed to a smaller dish containing
a black dye--"we may be able to make a Dahcota out of you after all."

"Waste no time," she commanded, as Timid Hare turned slowly to the
dishes of dye. "I leave you now for a little while and when I come
back--then I may like to look at you."

The Stone left the lodge and Timid Hare was left to change herself so
that even White Mink would not know her. Trained as she had been in
the ways of all Indians, her tears fell often as she covered her body
with the paint. She dare not leave one spot untouched, nor one tress
of the beautiful hair that had been White Mink's pride. When the work
was at last finished, there was no mirror in which to look at herself.

Once--just once, during her eight years of life among the Mandans, she
had seen a looking-glass. It was no larger than the palm of her small
hand, and belonged to the chief into whose hands it had come from a
white hunter years before. It was such a wonderful thing! Timid Hare
thought of it now and wished that she might see the picture that it
would of herself reflect.

"When I am next sent to the spring," she thought, "I will seek the
quiet little pool where some of the water lingers. Then, if the clouds