h cleared his
throat.

"Guess you ain't heard tell o' that Injun gal that used to go around in a
red blanket same as any of you might. I'm jest going to tell you about
her. Ah, more candy?" as a small hand was held out appealingly toward him.
"Guess we'll have another round before I get going right." He doled out
more of the sticky stuff, and then propped his face upon his hands and
proceeded.

"Wal, as I was goin' to say, that little squaw lived away there by the
hills in a snug tepee with her gran'ma. They were jest two squaws by
themselves, an old one, and a young one. And they hadn't no brave to help
'em, nor nothin'. The young squaw was jest like any of you. Jest a neat,
spry little gal, pretty as a picture and real good.

"She kind o' looked after her gran'ma who was sick. Sick as a mule with
the botts. Did the chores around that tepee, bucked a lot of cord-wood,
fixed up moccasins, an' did the cookin', same as you gals 'll mebbe do
later on. She was a slick young squaw, she was. Knew a caribou from a
jack-rabbit, an' could sit a bucking broncho to beat the band. Guess it
was doin' all these things so easy she kind o' got feelin'
independent--sort o' wanted to do everything herself. And she just used to
go right down to the store for food an' things by herself.

"Now I don't know how it rightly come about, but somewheres around that
tepee a wolf got busy. A timber wolf, most as big as--as--the Mission
house. An' he was savage. Gee, but he was real savage! Guess he was one o'
them fellers always ready to scare squaws an' papooses an' things. Ther's
lots o' that sort around."

Wanaha, quite unobserved by Seth, had come round the corner of the
building, and stood watching the earnest face of the man who was so
deliberately propounding his somewhat garbled version of Little Red Riding
Hood. While she listened to his words she smiled pensively.

"Yes, they git themselves up fancy an' come sneakin' around, an' they're
jest that fierce there ain't no chance for you. Say, them things would eat
you right up, same as you've eaten that taffy. Wal, this young squaw was
goin' off on her broncho when this timber wolf comes up smilin', an' he
says, 'Good-day.' An' he shakes hands with her same as grown folks do. All
them timber wolves are like that, 'cause they think you won't see they're
going to eat you then. You see he was hungry. He'd been out on the
war-path--which is real bad--an' he'd been fightin', and the folks ha