d seed. Across the road the youngest lay on his back
beside his herd pony. And, inside, by a window, the biggest sat and
watched the smoke, now a wavering spiral in the light breeze that fanned
the prairie; while their mother, knowing that the best way to receive an
Indian is with corn-cakes and coffee, stood over the kitchen stove. But
the little girl kept her sentinel place on the rain-barrel until the
sun veered her shadow from the side of the house to the earth bank
piled against it. Then she climbed down and, running to the sod barn,
saddled, bridled, and mounted the swiftest horse in the stalls and
careered back and forth between house and stable like an alert scout.

When noon came and the cow-horn summoned the family to the dinner-table,
not a sign of an Indian, beyond the smoke, had been seen. So, by the end
of the meal, it was decided that a visit should be paid the camp to see
how many braves composed it, and why they did not move on. The biggest
brother volunteered to make the ride, and, when he started off, the
little girl, whose horse had been fretfully gnawing the clapboarding at
the corner of the kitchen, also mounted and followed on behind, riding
warily.

They skirted the corner of the freshly turned potato-field and wheeled
into the reservation road behind the herd. But scarcely had they gotten
half-way to the stony rise that bordered the eastern end of the
potatoes, when they saw, coming over its brow and also mounted, an
Indian. He was riding fast toward them, and they reined and stood still
till he cantered up.

"Hullo," said the biggest brother, noting the fine army saddle and the
leather bridle with its national monogram in brass as the redskin
brought his horse to its haunches.

"Hullo," answered the Indian. His eyes had an anxious look in them as he
glanced from one to the other.

"What you want?" The biggest brother nodded toward the smoke.

The Indian waited a moment, hitching his blanket impatiently as he tried
to find an English word with which to reply. Then, failing, he suddenly
slipped from his horse to the ground, threw himself flat upon his face,
and began, with much writhing, to breathe heavily, as if in great pain.

"Somebody's sick," said the biggest brother, and, without waiting, he
clapped his heels against his horse's sides and set off toward the camp.
The little girl came after, cantering just in advance of the redskin,
whom she watched stealthily from the corner of her e