Feather-man want another drink? Shall Kitty fetch
it now?"

"Hush, papoose!"

He would have opened the small white hand and clasped it about the
bow, which reached full three times the height of the child, and along
whose beautiful length she gazed in wonder, but he could not.

"Take it, Girl-Child. It is a gift. It is more magical than the
necklace. Take it, hold it tight--that will please him--and say what
is in your heart."

"Oh, the beau'ful bow! Is it for Kitty? To keep, forever and ever?
Why, it is bigger than that one of the Sauganash, and far prettier
than Winnemeg's. It cannot be for Kitty, just little Kitty girl."

"Yes; it is."

Then the Sun Maid laid it reverently down, and catching hold her scant
tunic made the old-fashioned curtsey which her Fort friends had taught
her.

"Thank you, poor Feather-man. I will take care of it very nice. I
won't break it, not once."

"Ugh!" grunted the Indian, with satisfaction. Then he closed his eyes
as if he would sleep.

"Good-night, Spotted Adder, the Mighty. I thank you, also, on the
child's behalf. It is the second gift this day of talismans that must
protect. Surely, she will be clothed in safety. Hearken to me. I must
go home. The Sun Maid must be fed and put to sleep. But I will return.
I am no longer afraid. You were my father's friend. All that a woman's
hand can now do for your comfort shall be done."

[Illustration: THE GIFT OF THE WHITE BOW. _Page 48._]

But the Spotted Adder made no sign, and whether he did or did not hear
her, Wahneenah never knew. She walked swiftly homeward, bearing the
White Papoose upon one strong arm and the White Bow upon the other.
Yet she noticed, with a smile, that the child still clung tenderly to
her own burden of the injured squirrel, and that she was infinitely
more careful of it and its suffering than of the wonderful gift she
had received.

Long before her own tepee was reached the Sun Maid was fast asleep;
and as the small head rested more and more heavily upon Wahneenah's
shoulder, and the soft breath of childhood fanned her throat, the
woman again doubted the spiritual origin of the foundling, and felt
fresh gratitude for its simple humanity.

"Well, whoever and whatever she is, she is already thrice protected.
By her Indian dress, by her White Bow, and by Lahnowenah's White
Necklace. She is quite safe from every enemy now."

"Not quite," said a voice at Wahneenah's elbow.

But it was only Osceolo, the S