mountain-stream. There my memory failed me. I had awakened to find
myself helpless on a bed, strangely hard, but, oh, so restful! Then
she had appeared, sitting there smoking.

"You are the first stranger as has been here since the tax collector
last month," she said, beginning to clear away the mystery. "I love
strangers."

"How long have I been here?" I asked.

"Since last Wednesday," she answered.

"And this is what?"

"The next Saturday. I've had you three days. You was a bit wrong here
sometimes." She tapped her head solemnly. "But I powwowed."

"You powwowed me," I cried with all the spirit I could muster, for such
treatment was not to my liking. I never had any faith in charms.

"Of course," she replied. "Does you think I'd let you die? Why, when
me and Tip pulled you out of the creek you was a sight, you was, and
you was wrong here." Again she tapped her head. "You needn't
complain. Ain't you gittin' well agin? Didn't the powwow do it?"

Hardly, I thought. I must have recovered in spite of it. But the old
woman spoke with pride of her skill, and if she had not saved me by her
occult powers, she had at least helped to drag me from the creek. For
that I was grateful, so I smiled to show my thanks.