ndle of clothes on her head ran down the bank to the water's edge.
We, following, watched her drop her bundle near a board that sloped
from a rock into nature's tub, then kneel upon the upper end and souse
the clothes merrily up and down in the clear water. She lathered them
with a freshly gathered soap-root and cleansed them according to the
ways of the Spanish mission teachers. As she tied the wet garments in a
bundle and turned to carry them to the drying ground, Frances espied
some loose yellow poppies floating near the end of the board and lay
down upon it for the purpose of catching them.

Georgia and I saw her lean over and stretch out her hand as far as she
could reach; saw the poppies drift just beyond her finger tips; saw her
lean a little farther, then slip, head first, into the deep water. Such
shrieks as terrified children give, brought the Indian girl quickly to
our aid. Like a flash, she tossed the bundle from her head, sprang into
the water, snatched Frances as she rose to the surface, and restored
her to us without a word. Before we had recovered sufficiently to
speak, she was gone.

Not a soul was in sight when we started toward the Fort, all
unconscious of what the inevitable "is to be" was weaving into our
lives.

We were too young to keep track of time by calendar, but counted it by
happenings. Some were marked with tears, some with smiles, and some
stole unawares upon us, just as on that bright June evening, when we
did not find our sisters, and aimlessly followed others to the little
shop where a friendly-appearing elderly man was cutting slices of meat
and handing them to customers. We did not know his name, nor did we
realize that he was selling the meat he handed out, only that we wanted
some. So, after all the others had gone, we addressed him, asking,

"Grandpa, please give us a little piece of meat."

He looked at us, and inquired whose children we were, and where we
lived. Upon learning, he turned about, lifted a liver from a wooden peg
and cut for each, a generous slice.

On our way out, a neighbor intercepted us and said that we should sleep
at her house that night and see our sisters in the morning. She also
gave us permission to cook our pieces of liver over her bed of live
coals. Frances offered to cook them all on her stick, but Georgia and I
insisted that it would be fun for each to broil her own. I, being the
smallest child, was given the shortest stick, and allowed to stand