Timid Hare | Page 5

"Perhaps by-and-by the dog may learn to love me
too." There was a big lump in the little girl's throat, and she coughed as
she tried to choke it back.
"Hard work," said Black Bull as he watched her pulling the coarse
thread through the buffalo skin and trying not to tear it. "Hard work,"
he repeated. "Too bad."
Timid Hare nodded. "Good dog," she ventured after a while, looking at
the dog with a sad little smile. "I had a dog; I loved him," she added.
"Very good dog. He is my friend," replied the youth. "He goes with me
everywhere--everywhere. He makes me--not lonely. I call him Smoke."
Black Bull put his arm lovingly around Smoke's neck and the dog
whined softly. It was the only way in which he could say, "I love you,
poor master, if no one else does."
"My people are great people," Black Bull went on. "They are very
strong." Timid Hare nodded. "The Dahcotas are brave above all men.
Their bands are so many I could not count them." The very thought of
counting a large number made the simple-minded youth look puzzled.

"And they are tall and strong of body beyond the red men of all tribes."
Again Timid Hare nodded. But she also shuddered as she thought that
she was in their power, a helpless captive. Then, as her eyes turned
towards Black Bull, they filled with pity. Here was one of the Dahcotas,
at least, who was not strong and tall and well-shaped. Nor would he do
her harm, she felt sure.
Black Bull had turned to his lute which lay on the floor behind him and
begun to play a low, sweet tune when The Stone entered the lodge. She
looked sharply at Timid Hare, and then at the work which the little girl
had just finished.
"Ugh! Ugh!" grunted the squaw. "You must learn to sew better than
that, you little cringing coward. Ah, ha! I know something that may
help you." The Stone cut the air with a switch that she held in her hand.
"Something else may also help you to gain the spirit of a red woman.
Of that, by-and-by. And now you shall fetch me fresh water from the
spring. Black Bull, put yourself to some use. Show the girl where the
water may be drawn."
Handing an earthen crock to Timid Hare, she turned to her own
work--that of making dye out of the clay she had got the day before.
Timid Hare, holding the big crock as carefully as possible on her
shoulder, followed Black Bull out of the tepee. It seemed good to be
outdoors, even in a village of the Dahcotas. In the doorway of the next
lodge stood a young woman with pleasant eyes and beautiful glossy
hair. She looked curiously at the little girl, for she had just heard of her
capture. She must have pitied the child, for she smiled kindly at her.
Black Bull, catching the smile, said, "The Fountain, this is Timid Hare.
Is she not strange to look upon--so fair? She must be like the pale-faces
I have never seen."
The Fountain had no chance to answer, for Black Bull now turned to
his companion. "Hurry, Timid Hare, hurry, lest my mother be angry
and beat you."

As the two went on their way, the little girl saw other children like
herself, playing together and laughing happily. One of them had her
doll, and was carrying it in a baby-cradle on her back. She was
pretending it was too small to walk, and was singing a lullaby to make
it go to sleep.
All the children stopped to look at the little stranger.
"A Mandan! Oof!" cried one.
"Her hair is not black like ours," said another.
"Nor is her skin as dark. She is more like the pale-faces whom we
hate," remarked a third.
Then they turned to their play as if she were not worth noticing, and
poor little Timid Hare blushed for shame. It was hard indeed that even
the children should despise her.
A little farther on she noticed a group of men dancing together in the
sunlight. They were much taller than the Mandan braves, and noble to
look upon, as Black Bull had said. But to the little girl holding in mind
the capture of the day before, they seemed cruel and fearful even now
while they were dancing.
"The Dahcotas dance much--always," explained Black Bull, pointing to
the men. "We have many, many dances. For everything there is a dance.
When we feast, and before we hunt, when councils are held, when
guests come among us, we dance. It is a noble thing to dance.
Sometimes," he went on, "it is too make us laugh. Sometimes it is