housed itself at Fort O'Call, Silver Tassel acted badly, however, and
sowed fault-finding among the thoughtless of the tribe.

"What manner of Great Spirit is it who lets the food of his chief
Oshondonto fall into the hands of the Blackfeet?" he said. "Oshondonto
says the Great Spirit hears. What has the Great Spirit to say? Let
Oshondonto ask."

Again, when they all were hungrier, he went among them with complaining
words. "If the white man's Great Spirit can do all things, let him give
Oshondonto and the Athabascas food."

The missionary did not know of Silver Tassel's foolish words, but he saw
the downcast face of Knife-in-the-Wind, the sullen looks of the people;
and he unpacked the box he had reserved jealously for the darkest days
that might come. For meal after meal he divided these delicacies among
them--morsels of biscuit, and tinned meats, and dried fruits. But his
eyes meanwhile were turned again and again to the storm raging without,
as it had raged for this the longest week he had ever spent. If it would
but slacken, a boat could go out to the nets set in the lake near by some
days before, when the sun of spring had melted the ice. From the hour
the nets had been set the storm had raged. On the day when the last
morsel of meat and biscuit had been given away the storm had not abated,
and he saw with misgiving the gloomy, stolid faces of the Indians round
him. One man, two children, and three women had died in a fortnight. He
dreaded to think what might happen, his heart ached at the looks of gaunt
suffering in the faces of all; he saw, for the first time, how black and
bitter Knife-in-the-Wind looked as Silver Tassel whispered to him.

With the colour all gone from his cheeks, he left the post and made his