a laugh. "Ho! ho!" he taunted. "The squaw of
a squaw drudges to-day. Ho! ho!"

The crone joined in the laugh. Then, "Standing Buffalo may enter," she
said, and respectfully led the way into the wigwam.

The pariah heard, yet did not pause. But when, among the dogs again, he
cleaned at the deer hide with short, swift strokes, a light once more
flamed up in his dull eyes--a light unlike the one that had burned in
them at Brown Mink's fireside.

* * * * *

He was still working diligently, the sack over his head as before, when,
about the middle hour of the day, Lieutenant Fraser entered the
sliding-panel of the stockade and began to go rapidly from lodge to
lodge, as if in search of someone. Seeing the intruder, the dogs about
Squaw Charley bounded up, hair bristling and teeth bared.

The outcast laid aside his rubbing-stone and strove to quiet them. But
the sudden commotion under the roof had already attracted the young
officer. Stooping, he caught a glimpse of The Squaw.

"Oh, there you are!" he exclaimed, and motioned for him to come forth.

When the Indian appeared, the deer-skin in his arms, Lieutenant Fraser
pointed toward the entrance. "You come with me," he said, with a
gesture in the sign language.

Squaw Charley moved slowly along with him. No one was in sight in the
enclosure--no one seemed even to be looking on. But, opposite Brown
Mink's lodge, the old woman dashed out, seized the hide with a scream of
rage and dashed back again. The next moment, Charley passed through the
sliding-panel and took up his march to headquarters.

"So this is your last wild pet, eh, Robert?" said Colonel Cummings, as
they entered. He backed up to his stove and surveyed Squaw Charley
good-naturedly. "Let me see, now: You've run the scale from a devil's
darning-needle to a baby wolf. Next thing, I suppose, you'll be
introducing us to a youngish rattlesnake."

Lieutenant Fraser rumpled his hair sheepishly. "But you ought to see the
way they're treating him--banging him around as if he were a dog."

"Hm. He certainly doesn't look strong."

"They work him to death, Colonel."

The commanding officer laughed. "A redskin, working, must be a sight for
sore eyes!"

"But they don't feed him, sir."

The outcast, wrapped close in his blanket, lifted his pinched face to
them.

"How'd it happen I didn't notice this fellow during the march?" inquired
the colonel, a trifle suspiciously.

"He was