The Little Papoose. 7

boy who had strayed away. Nothing can be more terrible
than to be lost in such a place. If savages find the wanderer,
it may be to scalp him or make him a prisoner; hunger and
death come sooner than the savages.

“As soon as she discovered what was the matter, the witch-
child flew back, and saw the boy trying to find the path. He
felt a hand placed on his shoulder which guided him in the
right direction, until he could again behold the white wagons
of the emigrants.

“Once more mounting into the sky, the witch-child came to
a region of furze, sage, and wormwood, with lofty peaks be-
yond. She noticed a smoke as of many fires, and her heart
bounded with the hope that she had found her tribe at last.
Here were lodges and tents, dried venison, and a few horses
near; but the fires came from smouldering ruins of an en-
campment. There had been a battle between warring tribes,
and the place surprised. The witch-child approached sadly,
and what do you suppose she found? A little papoose lying
in a folded blanket unharmed. She took it up to kiss, and
the baby crowed and smiled. What was she to do with it?
Carrying it on her back, Indian fashion, she climbed the first
slopes of the Rocky Mountains, one of King Rapp’s homes.

“Tt was well that she had recovered her Elf slippers, the
baby was so heavy she could not fly. Those were happy days!
She fed the little thing with berries, and sang it to sleep, de-
lighted with the pretty brown face and bright eyes.

“One night she reached a house, a lonely ranch of the bor-
der settler. You would have mistaken her for a thief to see
her steal past the watch-dog into the chamber where the chil-