taken from me through any foolish fancy that Sweet Grass may have taken
for her."




THE HAPPY DAY

That evening the chief, Bent Horn, sat by his fireside, smoking with
his friends. Close beside him was his handsome son. On the women's
side of the lodge Sweet Grass and her mother squatted, listening to the
stories of the men. As the hours passed by, the visitors rose one by
one and went home for the night's sleep. When the last one had gone
Sweet Grass got up from her place and held out to her father the mat
she had been making for him. A pretty picture had been woven into the
rushes; it had taken all the young girl's skill to do it.

"For you, my father," said Sweet Grass.

The chief smiled. He was proud of his young son who gave promise of
becoming a fine hunter. But he was also proud of this one daughter.
He loved her so dearly that he could not bear to say, No, to anything
she might ask of him.

"My father," now said Sweet Grass, "I wish to speak to you of the child
Timid Hare whom you gave into the keeping of The Stone."

The chief scowled. "That pale-faced daughter of the cowardly Mandans?
She may thank you that she still lives," he said sternly.