very dirty, and appeared quite indifferent to the claims of common decency
(in the disposal of the few filthy rags that covered her). She was,
however, very expert in all Indian craft. No Jew could drive a better
bargain than Mrs. Tom; and her urchins, of whom she was the happy mother
of five or six, were as cunning and avaricious as herself. One day she
visited me, bringing along with her a very pretty covered basket for sale.
I asked her what she wanted for it, but could obtain from her no
satisfactory answer. I showed her a small piece of silver. She shook her
head. I tempted her with pork and flour, but she required neither. I had
just given up the idea of dealing with her, in despair, when she suddenly
seized upon me, and, lifting up my gown, pointed exultingly to my quilted
petticoat, clapping her hands, and laughing immoderately.

Another time she led me all over the house, to show me what she wanted in
exchange for _basket_. My patience was well nigh exhausted in following
her from place to place, in her attempt to discover the coveted article,
when, hanging upon a peg in my chamber, she espied a pair of trowsers
belonging to my husband's logging-suit. The riddle was solved. With a
joyful cry she pointed to them, exclaiming "Take basket.--Give them!" It
was with no small difficulty that I rescued the indispensables from her
grasp.

From this woman I learned a story of Indian coolness and courage which
made a deep impression on my mind. One of their squaws, a near relation of
her own, had accompanied her husband on a hunting expedition into the
forest. He had been very successful, and having killed more deer than they
could well carry home, he went to the house of a white man to dispose of
some of it, leaving the squaw to take care of the rest until his return.
She sat carelessly upon the log with his hunting-knife in her hand, when
she heard the breaking of branches near her, and, turning round, beheld a