rs fell often as she covered her body
with the paint. She dare not leave one spot untouched, nor one tress
of the beautiful hair that had been White Mink's pride. When the work
was at last finished, there was no mirror in which to look at herself.

Once--just once, during her eight years of life among the Mandans, she
had seen a looking-glass. It was no larger than the palm of her small
hand, and belonged to the chief into whose hands it had come from a
white hunter years before. It was such a wonderful thing! Timid Hare
thought of it now and wished that she might see the picture that it
would of herself reflect.

"When I am next sent to the spring," she thought, "I will seek the
quiet little pool where some of the water lingers. Then, if the clouds
give a deep shadow, I can see the Timid Hare I now am."

"Good," muttered The Stone when she returned and examined her little
slave. But when Black Bull noticed the change, he said nothing--only
looked sad. Perhaps he felt that the little stranger had somehow lost
herself.

THE VISIT

One day, soon after Timid Hare's coming, she was sent to the chief's
tepee on an errand. The Stone and she had been gathering rushes for
the chief's daughter Sweet Grass who wished them for a mat she was
weaving. It was to be a surprise for her father; she meant it to be so
beautiful that he would wish to sit on it at feasts when entertaining
chiefs of other bands.

The Stone and Timid Hare had spent many hours searching for the most
beautiful rushes, and the old squaw was pleased at having succeeded at
last.

"Sweet Grass's mother will give me much bear meat for getting the
rushes for her daughter," she thought. But to Timid Hare she only
said: "Take these to the home of our chief and place them in the hands
of Sweet Grass. Make haste, for she may already be impatient."

The Stone did not know that Sweet Grass had ever seen Timid Hare, nor
that she had begged her father for the child's life.

The little girl was glad to go. She had thought many times of the
chief's daughter, and of her kind face and gentle voice. Whenever she
had gone near Bent Horn's tepee she had been on the lookout for Sweet
Grass, but she had not been able to get a glimpse of her.

As Timid Hare trudged along with her load she thought of that dreadful
night after her capture. "I think I would have died of fright but for
the sight of the chief's beautiful daughter," she said to herself.
"Bu