nstant, a reflection of
its fear. The foster-mother wished to banish this fear.

"Wahneenah likes those who say their thoughts out straight and clear.
She is the sister of the Man-Who-Cannot-Lie. It is the crime of the
pale-faces that they will lie, and always. Wherefore, they are always
in danger. Take warning. Learn to be truth-tellers, like the
Pottawatomies, and you will have no trouble."

A quick retort rose to Gaspar's lips, but he subdued it. Then he
watched what was being done to Kitty, and a faint smile brightened his
face, that had been so far too gloomy for his years. Wahneenah had
made a long rope of horsehair, gaily adorned with beads and trinkets,
and was fastening it about the Sun Maid's waist. The little one
submitted merrily, at first; but when it flashed through her mind that
she was thus being made a prisoner, being "tied up," she burst into a
paroxysm of tears and temper that astonished the others, and even
herself.

"I will not be 'tied up!' I was not a naughty girl. When I am bad, I
will be punished, and I will not cry nor stamp my feet. But when I am
good, I will be free--free! There shall nobody, nobody do this to me!
Not any single body. Gaspar, will you let her do it?"

The boy's timidity flew to the winds. His dark eyes flashed with
indignation, and his heavy brows contracted in a fierce scowl. At that
instant, he appeared much older than he really was, and he advanced
upon Wahneenah with upraised hand and threatening gesture.

She might easily have picked him up and tossed him out of the way; but
there is nothing an Indian woman admires more greatly than courage. In
this she does not differ from her pale-faced sisters, and, instead of
resenting Gaspar's rudeness, she smiled upon him.

"That is right, Dark-Eye. It is a warrior's duty to protect his
women. You are not yet a warrior, nor is the Sun Maid yet a woman, but
as you begin so you will continue. Hear me. Let us make compact. I was
fastening the child for her own good, not in punishment. Is that a
white mother's custom? Well, this is better. Let us three pledge our
word: each to watch over and protect the other so long as our lives
last. The Great Spirit sent the Sun Maid into my arms, by the hands of
Black Partridge, my brother and my chief. The meanest Indian in
Muck-otey-pokee brought you to the village, and the meanest boy to my
wigwam. But when the chief saw you, he took you by the hand, and gave
you, also, to me. A triple bo