was also filled with wonder at the greatness of the Dahcotas.

"They are a mighty tribe," thought the little girl. She drew a long
breath of sadness, feeling that she could never hope to go from among
them. But when she afterwards looked on at the wrestling matches,
races on horseback, and dances such as she had never seen before, she
forgot everything else for the moment. Her eyes shone with excitement;
her breath came quick. Never before, it seemed to her, had she seen
such skill.

When the entertainment of each day ended, however, and Timid Hare went
to her bed of buffalo skins, she would lie thinking of the old home, of
the loving White Mink, the kind Three Bears, and the good
foster-brother Big Moose. Then tears would roll down over the little
girl's cheeks and she would choke back a sob.

"Can it be," she would think, "that the story White Mink told me before
I was taken from her, is true? Am I truly a white child, and is she
not my real mother?" Then the little captive would touch the baby's
sock fastened by a cord of deer-sinews about her waist and next to her
flesh.

"It is safe," she would whisper to herself, "and no one here has
discovered it--not even The Stone. It did not save me from being
captured, but it may yet bring good fortune, even as White Mink hoped."




MOVING DAY