Timid Hare, holding the big crock as carefully as possible on her
shoulder, followed Black Bull out of the tepee. It seemed good to be
outdoors, even in a village of the Dahcotas. In the doorway of the
next lodge stood a young woman with pleasant eyes and beautiful glossy
hair. She looked curiously at the little girl, for she had just heard
of her capture. She must have pitied the child, for she smiled kindly
at her. Black Bull, catching the smile, said, "The Fountain, this is
Timid Hare. Is she not strange to look upon--so fair? She must be
like the pale-faces I have never seen."
The Fountain had no chance to answer, for Black Bull now turned to his
companion. "Hurry, Timid Hare, hurry, lest my mother be angry and beat
you."
As the two went on their way, the little girl saw other children like
herself, playing together and laughing happily. One of them had her
doll, and was carrying it in a baby-cradle on her back. She was
pretending it was too small to walk, and was singing a lullaby to make
it go to sleep.
All the children stopped to look at the little stranger.
"A Mandan! Oof!" cried one.
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