"But I have seen her and talked with her, my father, and she has won my
heart. I want her to live with me and serve me. Will you let it be
so?"

There was no answer.

"And she no longer makes one think of the pale-faced Mandans. Her skin
is now dark with paint so that she looks even as we do." The voice of
Sweet Grass was tender with pleading.

"I saw her at the spring one day," broke in young Antelope. "The
hump-back, Black Bull, had just left her. Her eyes spoke fright, but
also a good temper. Let my sister have her wish."

The chief turned to his wife. In matters of the household the Indian
woman generally has her will.

"Let the child come and serve Sweet Grass," said the squaw who had a
noble face and must once have been as beautiful as her daughter.

"You shall have your wish." Bent Horn spoke as though not wholly
pleased; but when he saw the delight his words gave Sweet Grass, his
face showed more kindness than his voice.

Two days afterwards a messenger from Bent Horn appeared in The Stone's
doorway.

"I bring you word from our chief," he told her. "The captive, Timid
Hare, is to return with me. She will serve the maiden Sweet Grass."