the beautiful orphaned daughter of Big Wolf, and
sister of the reigning chief, Little Black Fox. Whatever may have been
Nevil Steyne's position before, he was completely ostracized by his
fellows now, that is by all but the folk at White River Farm. Men no
longer suggested that he had "taken the blanket"; they openly asserted
it.

The reason of Nevil Steyne's toleration by the White River Farm people was
curious. It was for Rosebud's sake; Rosebud and Wanaha, the wife of the
renegade wood-cutter. The latter was different from the rest of her race.
She was almost civilized, a woman of strong, honest character in spite of
her upbringing. And between Rosebud and this squaw a strong friendship had
sprung up. Kindly Rube and his wife could not find it in their hearts to
interfere, and even Seth made no attempt to check it. He looked on and
wondered without approval; and wonder with him quickly turned into keen
observation.

And it is with this strange friendship that we have to deal now.

Inside the log hut on the White River, Wanaha was standing before a small
iron cook-stove preparing her husband's food. It was the strangest sight
imaginable to see her cooking in European fashion. Yet she did it in no
uncertain manner. She learned it all because she loved her white husband,
just as she learned to speak English, and to dress after the manner of
white women. She went further. With the assistance of the missionary and
Rosebud she learned to read and sew, and to care for a house. And all this
labor of a great love brought her the crowning glory of legitimate
wifehood with a renegade white man, and the care of a dingy home that no
white girl would have faced. But she was happy. Happy beyond all her
wildest dreams in the smoke-begrimed tepee of her father.

Nevil Steyne had just returned from Beacon Crossing, whither he had gone
to sell a load of cord-wood, and to ask for mail at the post-office.
Strange as it may seem, this man still received letters from England. But
to-day he had returned with only a packet of newspapers.

He entered the hut without notice or greeting for Wanaha, who, in true
Indian fashion, waited by the cook-stove for her lord to speak first.

He passed over to the bedstead which occupied the far end of the room, and
sat himself down to a perusal of his papers. He was undoubtedly
preoccupied and not intentionally unkind to the woman.

Wanaha went steadily on with her work. For her this was quite as i