efore long he ceased to
scowl upon her when she lifted her sunny face to his, and, on rare
occasions, he even allowed her to count his arrows.

Once, when Rudolph had shot a wild turkey, he rushed to Ka-te-qua's
wigwam with his prize, for he had learned to love the strange old squaw,
though he feared her, too, sometimes. Kitty clapped her hands with
delight at her brother's skill, and begged him to go with her and show
the dead bird to her favorite Indian.

"Come, Rudolph; come show 'Nokah,'" she pleaded, pulling the young
hunter by the arm. "Come twick! he goin' away."

Rudolph suffered himself to be led. They found Po-no-kah standing alone
by a tree, fully equipped for the hunt.

He looked at the turkey and gave a grunt, not particularly flattering to
Rudolph's vanity.

"I've shot THREE!" said the boy, holding up three fingers to make his
meaning clearer.

"Ugh!" grunted the savage again. "Paleface no shoot much."

"But I'm growing," persisted Rudolph. "When I'm big, I'm going to shoot
bears and bison. Did you kill the bears to get all these claws?" he
added, pointing up to Po-no-kah's necklace, which was formed entirely of
huge bear-claws, strung through the thickest end.

"Ugh," replied the Indian, nodding his plumed head, "me shoot him."

"And these scalps," said Rudolph, shuddering as he pointed to the fringe
of human hair hanging from the buckskin leggings; "did _you_ get all
these?"

"Ugh," he answered grimly, nodding the plumes again.

"You are bad, then," exclaimed Rudolph, looking fearlessly into
Po-no-kah's eyes. "I know _you_," he added suddenly, after gazing at him
intently for an instant. "Father brought you into our kitchen last
winter, and I ran behind the door. Mother gave you meat and hot drink,
and father warmed you and gave you a bag of potatoes. Oh!" he continued,
clasping Po-no-kah's knee, "_you_ know where our home is. Nearly every
night I dream that mother is calling us. Show me the way, please do.
Ka-te-qua says there are dreadful things in the forest that will eat me
up, but I am not afraid. Oh, do tell us the way home!"

The Indian gave a sharp look at the sobbing boy, and seemed in part to
understand his words. Stooping, he whispered in a stern tone: "No speak;
no tell Ka-te-qua;"--and without one glance of encouragement, he stalked
away to the spot where the other Indians had assembled, preparing for
the hunt.

The children saw him no more for weeks. Rudolph remembered his p