have taken
for her."

THE HAPPY DAY

That evening the chief, Bent Horn, sat by his fireside, smoking with
his friends. Close beside him was his handsome son. On the women's
side of the lodge Sweet Grass and her mother squatted, listening to the
stories of the men. As the hours passed by, the visitors rose one by
one and went home for the night's sleep. When the last one had gone
Sweet Grass got up from her place and held out to her father the mat
she had been making for him. A pretty picture had been woven into the
rushes; it had taken all the young girl's skill to do it.

"For you, my father," said Sweet Grass.

The chief smiled. He was proud of his young son who gave promise of
becoming a fine hunter. But he was also proud of this one daughter.
He loved her so dearly that he could not bear to say, No, to anything
she might ask of him.

"My father," now said Sweet Grass, "I wish to speak to you of the child
Timid Hare whom you gave into the keeping of The Stone."

The chief scowled. "That pale-faced daughter of the cowardly Mandans?
She may thank you that she still lives," he said sternly.

"But I have seen her and talked with her, my father, and she has won my
heart. I want her to live with me and serve me. Will you let it be
so?"

There was no answer.

"And she no longer makes one think of the pale-faced Mandans. Her skin
is now dark with paint so that she looks even as we do." The voice of
Sweet Grass was tender with pleading.

"I saw her at the spring one day," broke in young Antelope. "The
hump-back, Black Bull, had just left her. Her eyes spoke fright, but
also a good temper. Let my sister have her wish."

The chief turned to his wife. In matters of the household the Indian
woman generally has her will.

"Let the child come and serve Sweet Grass," said the squaw who had a
noble face and must once have been as beautiful as her daughter.

"You shall have your wish." Bent Horn spoke as though not wholly
pleased; but when he saw the delight his words gave Sweet Grass, his
face showed more kindness than his voice.

Two days afterwards a messenger from Bent Horn appeared in The Stone's
doorway.

"I bring you word from our chief," he told her. "The captive, Timid
Hare, is to return with me. She will serve the maiden Sweet Grass."

The Stone's ugly eyes filled with anger. Yet she did not dare refuse
the command of the chief.

"Go," she said turning to Timid Hare, who was