Always Westward. 75

very curious. When the Indian girl paused to observe them,
they gave a shrill bark, and dived out of sight in their burrows.

“«Can you tell me where to find my people ?’

“ At that all the prairie dogs put out their little noses, and
one answered—

“«The red man has gone beyond; you will find him farther
on.’

“« Always farther on,’ sighed the Indian, wearily.

“Perhaps you will tell me something I should very much
like to know, said the prairie dog, again perching on his
mound. ‘If you made a burrow for yourself and family, would
you enjoy having a white owl and a rattlesnake come to live
with you whether invited or not?

“<«T should not, replied the witch-child.

“*Look here, then, and the prairie dog showed her the hole
in the ground where it dwelt, and where the owl and the snake
would lodge too.

“«There is room for us all, said the owl, in a comfortable
way, as if the prairie dog’s words did not hurt much.

“The witch-child walked forward. The sky seemed to meet
the horizon in a flat line before her; shadows rippled over the
ripening acres of corn. She very well knew that her race
never planted these fields; a patch to last one summer satisfied
them, and the next year they might select another spot to till.
Not a human being was visible; all the scene was very calm
and still.

“ At length she reached a stream bordered with cottonwood-
trees, and paused to drink. Hither filed a herd of buffalo to
slake their thirst.