s blinking comfortably.

The conical teepees themselves, each with a bundle of sticks at the
top and its thread of smoke, made no inharmonious note in the scene
of nature. Only upon a close look was the loveliness a little marred
by evidences of the Fish-Eaters' careless housekeeping.

Musq'oosis's lodge stood by itself outside the semicircle and a little
down stream. The owner was still sitting at the door, an odd little
bundle in a blanket, as Bela approached.

"I t'ink you come soon," he said. These two always conversed in
English.

"You know everyt'ing," stated Bela simply.

He shrugged. "I just sit quiet, and my thoughts speak to me."

She dropped on her knees before him, and rested sitting on her heels,
hands in lap. Without any preamble she said simply: "My fat'er a white
man."

Musq'oosis betrayed no surprise. "I know that," he replied.

"My mot'er's fat'er, he white man too," she went on.

He nodded.

"Why you never tell me?" she asked, frowning slightly.

He spread out his palms. "What's the use? You want to go. Got no place
to go. Too much yo'ng to go. I t'ink you feel bad if I tell."

She shook her head. "Mak me feel good. I know what's the matter wit'
me now. I understand all. I was mad for cause I think I got poor
mis'able fat'er lak Charley."

"It is well," said Musq'oosis.

"You know my fat'er?" asked Bela eagerly.

He nodded gravely.

"Tell me."

Musq'oosis seemed to look within. "Long tam ago," he began, "though I
am not yo'ng then neither. It was in the Louis Riel war I see your
fat'er. He a soldier in that war, wear red coat, ver' fine. Ot'er
soldier call him Smiler Forest. Red people call him Bird-Mouth for
cause he all tam mak' music wit' his wind, so"--here Musq'oosis
imitated a man whistling. "He is one good soldier. Brave. The Great
Mother across the water send him a medal wit' her face on it for cause
he so brave."

"What is medal?" interrupted Bela.

"Little round piece lak money, but not to spend," explained
Musq'oosis. "It is pin on the coat here, so everybody know you brave.

"Always I am a friend of the white people," Musq'oosis went on, "so I
fight for them in that war. I can't march me, or ride ver' good. I
canoe scout on the Saskatchewan River. Your fat'er is friend to me.
Moch we talk by the fire. He mak' moch fun to me, but I not mad for
cause I see he lak me just the same. Often he say to me, 'Musq'oosis,
my boy, I bad lot.'"

"Bad lot?" questioned Bela,