She was led to a big lodge with a tent adjoining. Inside an old
Indian brave, grizzled and shrunken, smoked before a fire; and as
Allie was pushed into the tent a young Indian squaw appeared. She
was small, with handsome, scornful face and dark, proud eyes,
gorgeously clad in elaborate beaded and fringed buckskin--evidently
an Indian princess or a chief's wife. She threw Allie a venomous
glance as she went out. Allie heard the old squaw's grunting voice,
and the young one's quick and passionate answers.
There was nothing for Allie to do but await developments. She
rested, rubbing her sore wrists and ankles, thankful she had been
left unbound. She saw that she was watched, particularly by the
young woman, who often walked to the opening to glance in. The
interior of this tent presented a contrast to the other in which she
had been confined. It was dry and clean, with floor of rugs and
blankets; and all around hung beaded and painted and feathered
articles, some for wear, and others for what purpose she could not
guess.
The afternoon passed without further incident until the old squaw
entered, manifestly to feed Allie, and tie her up as heretofore. The
younger squaw came in to watch the latter process.
Allie spoke to her and held out her bound hands appealingly.
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