Timid Hare Part 7

The speaker held out a bottle of cordial which the man who held Timid Hare held to her lips. She tried to swallow, but it choked her.

"There," she said with a gasp, "it is enough," and she lifted herself up.

"Good," said both men, who knew a little of the Indian tongue.

"Oh, but my shoe!" cried the little girl in fright. It had slipped a little from its usual resting place, and she now missed it. In spite of being alone on the snow-covered prairie, with two strangers, her first thought was of the little talisman White Mink had given into her keeping. Oh! she could feel it pressing against her waist, and she gave a happy sigh.

In the meantime, the men had decided that it would be best to take the child to their camp. The rest could be settled afterwards.

"Can you trust yourself to your snowshoes again?" the man whom his friend called Tom asked her gently.

She nodded, and with the help of one of her companions, they were bound on her feet. A biscuit was now given her--she had never tasted its like before--and she ate greedily. This was followed by another swallow of the cordial, and the little girl was ready for the start.

Many miles were before her, but the men often took hold of her hands to give her fresh courage. Besides, she was greatly excited. What was coming? Were these strangers bringing her back to the village of the Dahcotas, or guiding her to something far different? From time to time one of the men struck a match--such a wonderful thing it seemed to Timid Hare--and looked at a tiny instrument he carried in his pocket.

It seemed to tell him if they were travelling in the right direction.

"How wise," thought Timid Hare, "the white people must be! Perhaps they are as wise as the medicine men!"

And she--why, she was of their own race, though her stained skin did not show it! At the thought, she lifted her hand to her side. Yes, her treasure was safe!

When it seemed to the child as if she could not move her feet longer, a faint light shone out in the distance. The camp of the white men would soon be reached.

When the travellers at last arrived at the journey's end there was great excitement among the men who were anxiously watching for the return of their two companions. They had feared that their friends had lost their way and been overcome by cold; or more probable, that they had been killed or captured by the Indians. They were in the Dahcota country,--this they knew; also that these Dahcotas were fierce warriors and hated the white men.

How surprised they were to see what they thought was an Indian child with their companions! How did it happen? What was to be done with her?

But now, as Timid Hare almost fell to the floor of the warm, brightly lighted tent, all saw that she was quite exhausted. She must be fed, and afterwards sleep. There would be time enough to question her next morning.

Hot soup was brought, and never, it seemed, had anything ever tasted so delicious to Timid Hare. And the heat of the burning logs--how pleasant it was! Timid Hare was too tired to be afraid, or even to think, and even as she ate, she fell sound asleep.

She awoke next morning with her hand clutching the place where the sock lay hidden, and saw a kind face bending over her. It belonged to the same man who had held her when she roused from the snow-chill.

"What is it?" he asked gently. He pointed to her hand.

"It is--my charm. It is to bring me good."

"May I see it?" The man's voice was so kind that it filled Timid Hare with perfect trust.

"You will--help me?" The child's eyes were full of pleading.

"Yes, little one."

Slowly Timid Hare drew forth the sock. It was faded and soiled, yet the pattern in which the silk had been woven into the worsted was quite plain.

"How did--Why, tell me at once how you got this." The man's voice was half stern, half pleading.

"It was--so." With this beginning Timid Hare repeated the story as White Mink had told it to her. Many a time she had since told it to herself during her hard life with The Stone. It was such a strange story--so full of wonder to her still. The wonder of it was in her voice even now.

The man listened with half-closed eyes, but saying never a word till she finished. Then, as in a dream, he said in a low tone: "It is my baby's sock--the pattern is one planned by my dear wife Alice who died out on this lonely prairie. And then--the sudden attack of the Dahcotas--and I made prisoner, while my baby Alice was left behind to perish. Afterwards I was rescued, though I cared little to live."

"But child, child," he burst out, "though your eyes have the same color, the same expression as those of my dear wife, your skin is that of the red people."

"I stained it--The Stone made me--and when I saw Sweet Gra.s.s liked me best so, I put on the color again and yet again."

"G.o.d be praised! I have found my darling who, I thought, was lost forever." The man lifted Timid Hare and clasped her tenderly in his arms. And she--well, the little girl rested there content and happy.

The next minute the rest of the party who had been out exploring, entered the tent with word that the start must be made at once. The clouds of the night before had lifted; the snow might not begin falling for several hours, and the most must be made of the morning towards reaching a larger camp where sledges would carry them a long ways towards a fur station.

Great was the joy of the others when they learned the good fortune that had come to their friend, and merry was the whole party as it made its way onward. Yes, Timid Hare, or rather Alice, now more like the Swift Fawn she had been, was merry too. But as she went on her way to the new and beautiful life that would soon be hers, she begged her father to take her back by-and-by for a visit to her foster-parents and Big Moose in the Mandan village on the river. And he promised gladly.