"My dog," he said brokenly. "My one friend must die. I must give him
as a sacrifice, so my mother has said." The poor fellow began to cry.

"Your dear Smoke! I am so sorry for you, Black Bull." Timid Hare's
own eyes filled with tears. "So sorry," she repeated.

"I will try to save him, though." The deformed youth looked wildly
about him as he spoke, as though he feared some one besides Timid Hare
would hear him. Then, without waiting for her to reply, he went off in
the direction of the spring, beyond which was a sharp bluff. Below
this bluff flowed a stream of water which in the autumn was deep--so
deep that any one could drown in it easily.

"I wonder what Black Bull meant when he said he would try to save
Smoke," thought Timid Hare, as she stood watching. "He cannot save the
dog. How hard it is! No one in the village seems to care for Black
Bull. The Stone, his own mother, treats him cruelly. The dog is his
only friend, as he says. I will tell my young mistress about him. It
may be she can help him."

As soon as Timid Hare had done her errand she ran home, still with the
thought of Black Bull's trouble in her mind. She had been in the tepee
only a few minutes before Sweet Grass noticed that something was the
matter with her little maid.

"What has happened, Timid Hare?" she asked. "Your face is long--so!"
She drew her own mouth down at the corners and made herself look so
funny that Timid Hare, sad as she felt, broke into a laugh.

"It is Black Bull," she answered. "He is in trouble. It is greater