The next day word came to the chief's lodge that Black Bull had gone to
join the people of the grave. Though the medicine man had gone to him
and worked his mysteries with songs and drum beating, the Great Spirit
had not willed that he should live.

"Better so," declared Bent Horn, when the news was brought to the
lodge. "Black Bull was of no help to his people. He suffered, and was
not happy. Better so!"

"I will take his dog," Sweet Grass promised her sad little maid.
"Smoke shall be cared for, though his master has left him."




THE WINTER HUNT

The new home proved to be a good one. Each time the hunters went forth
they returned with a load of game. The squaws were kept busy drying
buffalo and bear meat, packing away the marrow and cleaning the bones
and skins. Every part of the animals was put to some use.

The days of the long, cold winter were at hand, and all must work
busily. Timid Hare had much to do, but sometimes she was allowed to
play outside of the tepee with other children; they were kinder to her
now that she lived in the chief's home. She had plenty to eat, and
Sweet Grass and her mother treated her well, but she longed for
something that was lacking here but was freely given in the old home:
it was love.