the grave was marked by a slight hollow.

One of the villagers going out to hunt took a short cut through the
choke cherry bushes. As he pushed them aside he saw the hollow
grave, but thought it was a washout made by the rains. But as he
essayed to step over it, to his great surprise he stumbled and
fell. Made curious by his mishap, he drew back and tried again;
but again he fell. When he came back to the village he told the
old men what had happened to him. They remembered then that a long
time before there had been buried there a medicine woman or
conjurer. Doubtless it was her medicine that made him stumble.

The story of the villager's adventure spread thru the camp and made
many curious to see the grave. Among others were six little boys
who were, however, rather timid, for they were in great awe of the
dead medicine woman. But they had a little playmate named Brave,
a mischievous little rogue, whose hair was always unkempt and
tossed about and who was never quiet for a moment.

"Let us ask Brave to go with us," they said; and they went in a
body to see him.

"All right," said Brave; "I will go with you. But I have something
to do first. You go on around the hill that way, and I will
hasten around this way, and meet you a little later near the
grave."

So the six little boys went on as bidden until they came to a place
near the grave. There they halted.