and Rainbow Lodge sustained her. A little time
before and she had not known any happiness. Now the thought of the joy
she would feel if she ever got home again, gave her patience and courage
to wait.

Few of the older Indians paid much attention to the captive. Whatever
story old Laska had told them, they had accepted without question. They
spoke very little English and rarely stirred, except when the men went
off on long hunting expeditions to return with whatever deer they
managed to slay.

Olive had only one friend, one person, with whom she talked in the weeks
she spent in the Indian camp. This was Carlos, a young Indian boy, about
twelve years old. He was as slender and straight as a young pine tree,
the fastest runner, the best rider and shot in the tribe. She had paid
little attention to the boy at first, but he followed her like a shadow.
Often when she came out of her tent, she would find him sitting like a
brown image on the cold ground. The boy was like an Eskimo and appeared
to feel neither hunger nor frost.

One day Olive set out for a walk. She did not wish Carlos to go with
her, but before she had gone many rods the boy appeared at her side and
quietly marched beside her, looking neither to the right nor the left.

"Go back, Carlos," Olive commanded quietly.

The boy shook his head. "You travel not alone over the prairies, you do
not know your way," he answered stolidly.

Olive's patience gave out. She seized the boy by the shoulders, tears
came into her soft black eyes and her face quivered. "You are hired to
spy on me, Carlos," she said accusingly. "I thought I had one friend in
you."

Again Carlos shook his head. "Why should I spy on you?" he asked. "What
is it you would do?"

Then Olive told the boy what had happened to her.

Very quietly he listened. "I knew you were not of our people," he
answered. "I will find the way for you to get back home. You are a woman
and timid. Have faith in me."

Olive smiled, and from this day she called the Indian boy, "Little
Brother," but she had no hope of his helping her and she saw him far
less often. Carlos was away from the camp nearly every day, returning
with rabbits that he shot on the plains. Olive saw him drying the skins
and sometimes he brought her their meat to eat, but he never referred to
his promise to show her a way of escape from the Indian camp.

The days were long, but the nights were far longer and the long
twilights the saddest tim