n't
stay. I really can't, I must go back and help Seth, or he'll be so
angry."

Rosebud quite ignored her own contradictions, but Wanaha didn't.

"No, and it is not good to make Seth angry. He--what-you-call--he very
good by you. See, I say come to me. You come, and I have--ah--ah," she
broke off in a bewildered search for a word. "No--that not it. So, I know.
Birthday pre--sent."

Wanaha gave a triumphant glance into Rosebud's laughing face and went to a
cupboard, also made of packing cases, and brought forth a pair of
moose-hide moccasins, perfectly beaded and trimmed with black fox fur. She
had made them with her own hands for her little friend, a labor of love
into which she had put the most exquisite work of which she was capable.

Rosebud's delight was unfeigned. The shoes were perfect. The leather was
like the finest kid. It was a present worthy of the giver. She held out
her hands for them, but the Indian laughed and shook her head.

"No," she said playfully. "No, you white woman! Your folk not carry things
so," and she held the tiny shoes out at arm's length. "You put paper
round, so." She picked up one of her husband's newspapers and wrapped the
present into a clumsy parcel. "There," she exclaimed, handing it to the
girl, "I wish you much happy!"

As she put the parcel into the outstretched hands, Rosebud sprang from the
table and flung her arms round the giver's neck, and kissed her heartily.

"You're the dandiest thing in the world, Wana," she cried impulsively,
"and I love you."

CHAPTER VI

A NEWSPAPER

Seth was bending over his work among the potatoes. It was a large order,
for there were more than five acres of it. Every time he stood erect to
ease his back he scanned the distance in the direction of the White River.
Each time he bent again over his hoe, it was with a dissatisfied look on
his sunburnt face. He made up his mind that Rosebud was playing truant
again. He cared nothing for the fact of the truancy, but the direction in
which his eyes turned whenever he looked up displayed his real source of
dissatisfaction. Rosebud had been out since the midday dinner, and he
guessed where she was. The mosquitoes worried him to-day, which meant that
his temper was ruffled.

Suddenly he paused. But this time he didn't look round. He heard the sound
of galloping hoofs racing across the prairie. Continuing his work, he
roughly estimated the distance the rider was away.

He gave no sign at