Mary Muskrat was one of the Bannock girls in the mission school. The
little shrinking, more-than-half-wild papoose of the desert had been
toilsomely but surely trained by the teacher, that bravest of little
women.

Pulmonary consumption is the bane of the civilized Indians. It carries
them off in multitudes. Despite their outdoor living, it seems that
few, if any, ever recover from an attack. The dread disease had
fastened itself upon Mary and she was sick unto death. Her little
shack was no fit place for a living person, and here was one dying.
Frequent visits from her teacher afforded the dying maiden her only
relief. Once, after watching her through a severe paroxysm of
coughing, it seemed that life had gone completely. Removing the
squalid bunch of rags which served as a pillow, and lowering the head,
the devoted teacher stood watching the supposed lifeless form. But she
saw the lips moving, and, bending low, she heard the dying girl
whisper, "What time I am afraid I will trust in Thee." Continuing, she
breathed out, "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.... Yea,
though I walk through the valley and the shadow of death, I will fear
no evil." Pausing, while the heart of the white woman was praising God
for his goodness to the dusky child, Mary opened her beautiful eyes,
and, seeing her protectress and benefactress standing there, said, "O,
dear teacher, the Lord is my shepherd."

Then the Shepherd came and took her to dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.

BAD BEN

A little child shall lead them.--_Isaiah_.

Ben's daughter, Mary[1], was the delight of the old man's heart. She
had been taken most unwillingly, so far as both were concerned, and
placed in one of the Eastern schools for Indian youths. Ben had
objected strenuously, but the stronger arm prevailed.

The teacher at the mission had never in all her many years in that
place felt fear until after Mary was taken away. When the father would
come to the school to ask for news of her, he had his face painted
black, indicating madness or war--"bad heart" he called it. The little
woman who had won the hearts of the people did not know what the
enraged man might do or when he would do it. Once, after many such
terrifying visits, he volunteered the information that he was making
him a house and a farm "all same witee man." He had built it of some
railroad ties he had found and had begun to cultivate a garden and cut
some wild hay. "Me makee