"We will come back here again, Oostogah?"

"No; we will never come back."

Donee went to the tree and looked down at the party she had made; at
the little dishes with the rose on each. But she did not lift one of
them up. She took off her pretty dress and laid it beside them, and,
going to the hut, put on her old rags again. Then she came out and
followed her brother, whose face was turned toward the great dark
woods in the west.

When the miller's children came to the party that afternoon, a pig was
lying on Donee's red dress, and the dishes were scattered and broken.
But the hut was empty.

* * * * *

A year afterward, the miller came back from a long journey. After he
had kissed and hugged his wife and little ones, he said: "You
remember, wife, how Hawk cheated that poor Indian lad out of his
land?"

"Yes; I always said it was the old story of the fox and the foolish
raven over again."

"It was the old story of the white and the red man over again. But out
in an Indian village I found Donee sick and starving."

The miller's wife jumped to her feet. The tears rushed to her eyes.
"What did you do? What did you do?"