"I wish--oh, so hard!" she added with a lump in her throat, "that White
Mink had not told me. I don't want to remember there ever
was--something different."

With these last words Swift Fawn lifted the little sock and was about
to hurl it into the water, when she suddenly stopped as she remembered
White Mink's last words.

"I give this shoe into your keeping," the woman had said solemnly. "I
have spoken because of my dream last night, and because of its warning
I bid you keep the shoe always."

With a little sigh, Swift Fawn drew back from the edge of the stream
and replaced the shoe in the bosom of her jacket. Then she stretched
herself out on the grassy bank and lay looking up into the blue sky
overhead. How beautiful it was! How gracefully the clouds floated by!
One took on the shape of a buffalo with big horns and head bent down as
if to charge. But it was so far away and dreamlike it was not fearful
to the child. And now it changed; the horns disappeared; the body
became smaller, and folded wings appeared at the sides; it was now, in
Swift Fawn's thoughts, a graceful swan sailing, onward, onward, in the
sky-world overhead.

The little girl's eyes winked and blinked and at last closed tightly.
She had left the prairie behind her and entered the Land of Nod.

She must have slept a long time, for when she awoke the sun had set,
and in the gathering darkness, she was aware of a man's face with
fierce dark eyes bent over her own.