on the ground, wildly fighting for the feast.

With a gentle smile Seth looked on at the fierce scramble. To judge from
his manner it would have been hard to assert which was the happier, the
children or their teacher. Though Seth found them a tax on his imaginative
powers, and though he was a man unused to many words, he loved these
Sunday afternoons with his young charges.

His thoughtful contemplation was broken by Wanaha. Her moccasins gave out
no sound as she stepped up to him from behind and touched him on the
shoulder. Her grave smile had passed; and when he turned he found himself
looking into a pair of steady, serious, inscrutable eyes. No white woman
can hide her thoughts behind such an impenetrable mask as the squaw.
Surely the Indian face might well have served as a model for the Sphinx.

"The white teacher makes much happy," she said in her labored English.

Seth promptly answered her in her own tongue.

"The papooses of the Indian make the white man happy," he said simply.

There was a long pause. Suddenly one dusky urchin rose with a whoop of
delight, bearing aloft the torn paper with several lumps of sweet stuff,
discolored with dirt, sticking to it. With one accord the little mob
broke. The triumphant child fled away to the bluff pursued by the rest of
her howling companions. The man and the squaw were left alone.

"The white man tells a story of a wolf and a squaw," Wanaha said,
returning to her own language. The children were still shrieking in the
distance.

Seth nodded assent. He had nothing to add to her statement.

"And the wolf eats the squaw," the woman went on, quite seriously. It
sounded strange, her literal manner of discussing this children's story.

A look of interest came into the man's thoughtful eyes. But he turned
away, not wishing to display any curiosity. He understood the Indian
nature as few men do.

"There was no one by to warn the squaw?" she went on in a tone of simple
inquiry. "No brave to help her?"

"No one to help," answered the man.

There was another pause. The children still inside the Mission house were
helping to chant the Doxology, and the woman appeared to listen to it with
interest. When it was finished she went on----

"Where the wolf is there is much danger for the squaw. Indian squaw--or
white. I, too, learn these things. I learn from much that I hear--and
see."

"I know," Seth nodded.

"You know?"

"Yes."

"Wanaha is glad. The white brave wil