ese points, brought
their ambiguity nearer to the surface.

One evening old Haukemah received from the women the bear's robe fully
tanned. Its inner surface had been whitened and then painted rudely
with a symbolical representation of the hunt. Haukemah spoke as follows,
holding the robe in his hand:

"This is the robe of makwa, our little brother. His flesh we all ate of.
But you who killed him should have his coat. Therefore my women have
painted it because you saved their head man."

He laid the robe at Dick's feet. Dick glanced toward his companion with
the strange cast flickering quizzically in his narrow eyes. "Fine thing
to carry along on a trip like ours," he said in English. "_I_ don't know
what to do with it. They've worked on it mighty near a week. I wish to
hell they'd keep their old robe." However, he stooped and touched it in
sign of acceptance. "I thank my brother," he said in Cree.

"You'll have to bring it along," Sam answered in English. "We'll have to
carry it while we're with them, anyway."

The Indian men were squatted on their heels about the fire, waiting
gravely and courteously for this conference, in an unknown tongue, to
come to an end. The women, naturally interested in the disposal of
their handiwork, had drawn just within the circle of light.

Suddenly Dick, inspired, darted to this group of women, whence he
returned presently half dragging, half-coaxing a young girl. She came
reluctantly, hanging back a little, dropping her head, or with an
embarrassed giggle glancing shyly over her shoulder at her companions.
When near the centre of the men's group, Dick dropped her hand.

Promptly she made as though to escape, but stopped at a word from
Haukemah. It was May-may-gwan, the Ojibway girl.

Obediently she paused. Her eyes were dancing with the excitement of the
adventure, an almost roguish smile curved her mouth and dimpled her
cheek, her lower lip was tightly clasped between her teeth as she stood
contemplating her heavily beaded little moccasin, awaiting the
explanation of this, to her, extraordinary performance.

"What is your name, little sister?" asked Dick in Cree.

She dropped her head lower, but glanced from the corner of her eye at
the questioner.

"Answer!" commanded Haukemah.

"May-may-gwan," she replied in a low voice.

"Oh, yes," said Dick, in English. "You're an Ojibway," he went on in
Cree.

"Yes."

"That explains why you're such a tearing little beauty," mutt