60 The Catskill Fatrtes.

“Then the Indian girl told them all about her life. She
lived with her tribe down in the valley. Her father had been
killed in the chase, and her mother also was dead, so she stayed
in the wigwam with her grandmother on the edge of the wood.
The chief did not like the hunter’s children; he took away the
boys to train them for warriors, and he frowned at the girl, so
that the old grandmother hid her when the chief stalked past,
his feathers and war-paint giving him a savage appearance.
Perhaps he did not like the children because their father had
been called Big Chief. The old grandmother gathered herbs
and simples; she was called to the sick as often as the medi-
cine-men.

“The brothers rode off to earn their first scalp, as they
could not be considered heroes until they had killed an enemy ;
and one day the girl sat weaving her mat in the door of the
wigwam, for the Indian women are very industrious. The old
grandmother came quickly.

“«Run to the forest, she whispered. ‘The chief is in a
bad humor, and, now your brothers are gone, he sends for
you.’

“ The girl was in a great fright, the chief was so cruel, and
she ran to the forest without once glancing back. Soon she
was lost in the cool, green twilight made by the lofty trees ;
here and there the sunshine shot golden arrows down on her
path, revealing mossy nooks where she discovered berries, ripe
and dewy, among tangled vines. The flutter of a bird rising
from its nest or the crackling of a branch made her heart
jump, so much did she dread seeing one of her own people.
If one had met her he must carry her back to the chief, or