The next thing she knew, she was lying in the arms of a man with kind blue eyes.  He was smiling at her, and he was white!  Another man, white like himself, was rubbing her arms and legs.

“All right now,” the first man was saying to the other.  “Poor little thing!  How did she ever get out here?  That Dahcota village is a good dozen miles from here, and the child’s moccasins tell that she is of that tribe.”

“We must waste no time in getting farther away from them ourselves,” replied the other.  “Little time would be wasted in taking our scalps if they caught us alone.”

“But we can’t leave this helpless creature,” said the first speaker.  “Do you know, Ben, she must be about the age of my own little daughter if—­” The man’s voice broke suddenly.

“Poor fellow—­yes, I understand.  You never will get over that blow.  But, really, Tom, we must not stay here.  The savages may be upon us any moment.  Here, use this.  It may bring her to.”

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!