Kitty clasped Rudolph’s neck more tightly, and broke into a frightened sob.  In an instant, they felt her hand steal very gently over their tumbled curls.

“Night! night!” she whispered softly.

“Good-night, Ka-te-qua,” they answered in a breath, for their fear was all gone now.

“Night, night,” repeated the voice, as kindly as their own mother could have said it, and after giving each a caressing stroke, their old friend moved softly away.

Very early the next morning the children were awakened by a buzzing of many voices.  Ka-te-qua had been found lying stiff and cold at the entrance of her wigwam.  Not a trace of injury of any kind was upon her.  The Indians, crowding round, shook their heads gravely.  Ka-te-qua was wise, they said, but Manitou had sent for her.  She had gone to the happy Hunting Grounds of her fathers.

XI.

FIRE-WATER BECOMES MASTER.

After a long absence, the hunting party returned.  As soon as Po-no-kah’s stalwart form appeared in sight, Rudolph and Kitty rushed, with a cry of joy, to meet him; but, to their great dismay, he pushed them away with a frown and a grunt that told them plainly that they were to be familiar with him no more.  Poor children!—­Ka-te-qua gone, Po-no-kah changed, and Tom scarcely heeding them,—­they felt friendless indeed.  Kind words they never heard now, and kind looks rarely, except when Tom threw them a hasty glance that warmed their hearts, though they scarcely knew why.  They did not know how his feelings yearned towards them, nor how eagerly he would have joined in all their simple pursuits, had he dared to do so; but the poor fellow had discovered that any notice he took of the children aroused suspicion, and he therefore concluded to pursue a prudent course.

In the meantime the children had one great joy.  Their love for each other was always the same.  Kitty trusted in the belief that “mammy” would send for them; but Rudolph looked ever up to the Great Love that he knew was watching over them and the dear ones at home.

“If it’s right, Kitty,” he would whisper, “I know we’ll go home one of these days.  Don’t be afraid.  God will take care of us.”

“But Dod took Te-qua away,” Kitty would sometimes say.

“Yes, I know He did, Kitty,” and Rudolph’s eyes would look sadly up to the blue sky, “I know He did, but then I think she was tired and wanted to go.”

Summer, autumn, and winter had passed away, and now came the season when the Indians carried their largest supply of furs and skins to sell in the city far over the prairies.  Often, after their hunts, they had met with traders, and exchanged the skins they had taken for such articles as the white man had to give—­guns, blankets, knives, powder, pipes, and fire-water;[4] but this was the grand trading excursion of the year.

When the party returned, after a few weeks’ absence, they brought with them among other things, a keg of whisky.  After the first welcome was over, the savages held a council.