to go from among
them. But when she afterwards looked on at the wrestling matches,
races on horseback, and dances such as she had never seen before, she
forgot everything else for the moment. Her eyes shone with excitement;
her breath came quick. Never before, it seemed to her, had she seen
such skill.

When the entertainment of each day ended, however, and Timid Hare went
to her bed of buffalo skins, she would lie thinking of the old home, of
the loving White Mink, the kind Three Bears, and the good
foster-brother Big Moose. Then tears would roll down over the little
girl's cheeks and she would choke back a sob.

"Can it be," she would think, "that the story White Mink told me before
I was taken from her, is true? Am I truly a white child, and is she
not my real mother?" Then the little captive would touch the baby's
sock fastened by a cord of deer-sinews about her waist and next to her
flesh.

"It is safe," she would whisper to herself, "and no one here has
discovered it--not even The Stone. It did not save me from being
captured, but it may yet bring good fortune, even as White Mink hoped."

MOVING DAY

The visitors had all gone away and the village was once more
quiet--that is, as quiet as it might be among the Dahcotas, the lovers
of the dance and of music.

Now and then some of the braves went forth on a war-party, or on a hunt
after bears or buffaloes. But the buffaloes were scarce, they told
their chief; the herds must have wandered far, and the hunters often
returned empty-handed. This was bad, because the winter was drawing
near and supplies of meat were needed for that long season of bitter
cold.

One morning Bent Horn rose earlier than usual and made his way to the
council house. There he staid for some time talking with the medicine
men and other leading braves of the village.

Should there be a bear dance and a buffalo dance to call the attention
of the Great Spirit to the needs of His people, that He might send
plenty of prey nearer the village? Or should the band first move to a
different part of the country, where no red man dwelt and where the
buffaloes, at least, might be plentiful?

When the talk was ended the men who had gathered at the council went
their way. Bent Horn's mind was made up. "My people must move to a
new camping ground," he said to himself. "We will journey to the
eastward. In that direction, the hunters say, we are likely to draw
near the feeding gro