et under the
ridicule that outraged the childish vanity of his kind. He could thirst.
He could starve. But, returning to the roof one night, he had prowled
yearningly past her lodge. And had come upon her and her new lover,
standing cheek to cheek, close wrapped in a single blanket.

And so this night, while the warriors watched the sacred track upon the
sky, he made his way to the river. For there he meant to plead the God
of David Bond, that He send him a chance for valour--a chance to slay.
Out in the starlight, therefore, he fell upon his knees.

But before his simple mind had framed his petition, there entered a
thought that puzzled and alarmed. He pondered upon it. The God of David
Bond was a God of Peace, Who frowned in awful anger upon fighting and
bloodshed. The preacher had said so. Had taught "Thou shalt not kill!"
Had taught that no answers were vouchsafed to wicked prayers; but
punishments, instead. _How then could a prayer of that kind be sent to
Him!_

The outcast was dismayed.

Then came a happier idea. The God of David Bond being a God of peace,
why trouble His ear? Why not pray this one prayer for blood to the Great
Spirit he had served before--the Great Spirit who marked out the
destinies of the Dakotas, who was ever strongest in times of war?

Hurriedly The Squaw got to his feet and ran to the edge of the bank,
where there were climbing lengths of grapevine. Degraded, he might not
use tobacco for a rite. But the Great Spirit would understand. In the
dark, his hands felt for and found a dry stalk. He snapped off a
finger-length of it.

A second to take flint and steel from his buckskin pouch. Another to
light the bit of vine. Then----

But he did not sit upon the ground with crossed legs. Neither did he
pull upon the vine. He let it go out, instead. And sank hesitatingly to
his knees. For, again, he had remembered!

David Bond had said: "The red man's god is poor and stingy. He lets his
people want and starve. He lets enemies triumph over them, and destroy.
But the God of the white man is rich and good. See how generously He
gives to those who serve Him! Yet--lest you anger Him--have none other.
Because He is a jealous God!"

He might not pray to either then! He lifted despairing eyes--and saw
above him, divinely luminous, that sacred path, glittering white with
the hastening spirits of the dead.

He put a ragged sleeve across his eyes to shut out the sight. It
brought a picture he longed