party; among them, Mrs. Atkins, who had just come to the post as a bride.
They even added a trifle or two from their own store of pretty things, as
presents to Sally. And Miss Tumlin left the post Mrs. Warren Rodney, with
"a home of her own" to go to.

Singing Stream did not hasten in her quest for bright fabrics with which
to stay the hand of fate. To the half-breed woman the journey to town was
not without a certain revivifying pleasure. The Indian in her stirred to
the call of the open country. The tight roof to the cabin on Elder Creek
had not the attractions for her that it had for Sally Tumlin. She had
chafed sometimes at a house with four walls. But now the dead and gone
braves rose in her as she followed the old trail where they had so often
crept to battle against their old enemies, the Crows, before the white
man’s army had scattered them. And as she drove through the foot-hill
country, she told the solemn-eyed little Judith the story of the Sioux,
and what a great fighting people they had been before Rodney’s people
drove them from their land. Judith was holding a doll dressed exactly like
herself, in soft buckskin shirt, little trousers, and moccasins, all
beautifully beaded. In her turn she told the story to the doll.

Singing Stream told her daughter of the making of the world, as the Sioux
believe the story of creation; of the "Four who Never Die"—Sharper, or
Bladder, Rabbit, Turtle, and Monster; likewise of the coming of a mighty
flood on which swam the Turtle and a water-fowl in whose bill was the
earth atom, from which presently the world began to grow, Turtle
supporting the bird on his great back, which was hard like rock. The rest
of the myth, that deals with the rising and setting of the sun, Singing
Stream could not tell her daughter, as the old Sioux chiefs did not think
it wise to let their women folk know too much about matters of theology.
Nor did they relate to squaws the sun myth, with its account of much