"But there is no Swift Fawn--she is dead, dead, dead. There is now
only Timid Hare, the slave of a wicked woman."--The child shuddered at
the thought. She came to herself to hear The Stone saying,
"Leave her to me and I will train her in the good ways of the
Dahcotas." The man smiled grimly and went his way, and the woman
turning to her charge said: "Come, don't stand there cowering and
useless. Busy yourself. Pile wood upon the fire and put water in that
kettle. My son and I are hungry and would eat, and the meat must yet
be cooked."
With The Stone's words came a blow on Timid Hare's shoulder. It was
the first one the child had ever felt, and though it did not strike
hard upon the body, it fell with heavy weight upon her aching heart.
Stumbling about, she tried to do the old squaw's bidding, and the two
soon had the supper ready. The Stone now served her son on his side of
the fireplace, after which she herself began to eat her fill while
Swift Fawn sat huddled in a dark comer, hungrily watching.
"Take that," the woman said as she finished her meal, and she threw a
half-picked bone to the little girl.
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