Big Tom saw the dark looks of this Indian, and regarded him with suspicion; but little Kitty was quite unconscious of the resentful feelings of “the sick man,” as she called him.  In fact, as soon as she grew more familiar with the Indians, she often sought him in preference to the rest, and loved to sit upon the ground beside him, and trace with her tiny fingers the patterns worked upon his leggings and moccasins.

At first the grim warrior repulsed these familiarities; but when, as he began to mingle with his tribe, he heard her sweet voice calling him by name, and saw her day after day display her store of beads and feathers at his feet, his feelings gradually softened.  Before long he ceased to scowl upon her when she lifted her sunny face to his, and, on rare occasions, he even allowed her to count his arrows.

Once, when Rudolph had shot a wild turkey, he rushed to Ka-te-qua’s wigwam with his prize, for he had learned to love the strange old squaw, though he feared her, too, sometimes.  Kitty clapped her hands with delight at her brother’s skill, and begged him to go with her and show the dead bird to her favorite Indian.

“Come, Rudolph; come show ‘Nokah,’” she pleaded, pulling the young hunter by the arm.  “Come twick! he goin’ away.”

Rudolph suffered himself to be led.  They found Po-no-kah standing alone by a tree, fully equipped for the hunt.

He looked at the turkey and gave a grunt, not particularly flattering to Rudolph’s vanity.

“I’ve shot THREE!” said the boy, holding up three fingers to make his meaning clearer.

“Ugh!” grunted the savage again.  “Paleface no shoot much.”

“But I’m growing,” persisted Rudolph.  “When I’m big, I’m going to shoot bears and bison.  Did you kill the bears to get all these claws?” he added, pointing up to Po-no-kah’s necklace, which was formed entirely of huge bear-claws, strung through the thickest end.

“Ugh,” replied the Indian, nodding his plumed head, “me shoot him.”

“And these scalps,” said Rudolph, shuddering as he pointed to the fringe of human hair hanging from the buckskin leggings; “did you get all these?”

“Ugh,” he answered grimly, nodding the plumes again.

“You are bad, then,” exclaimed Rudolph, looking fearlessly into Po-no-kah’s eyes.  “I know you,” he added suddenly, after gazing at him intently for an instant.  “Father brought you into our kitchen last winter, and I ran behind the door.  Mother gave you meat and hot drink, and father warmed you and gave you a bag of potatoes.  Oh!” he continued, clasping Po-no-kah’s knee, “you know where our home is.  Nearly every night I dream that mother is calling us.  Show me the way, please do.  Ka-te-qua says there are dreadful things in the forest that will eat me up, but I am not afraid.  Oh, do tell us the way home!”

The Indian gave a sharp look at the sobbing boy, and seemed in part to understand his words.  Stooping, he whispered in a stern tone:  “No speak; no tell Ka-te-qua;”—­and without one glance of encouragement, he stalked away to the spot where the other Indians had assembled, preparing for the hunt.