When the work
was at last finished, there was no mirror in which to look at herself.
Once--just once, during her eight years of life among the Mandans, she
had seen a looking-glass. It was no larger than the palm of her small
hand, and belonged to the chief into whose hands it had come from a
white hunter years before. It was such a wonderful thing! Timid Hare
thought of it now and wished that she might see the picture that it
would of herself reflect.
"When I am next sent to the spring," she thought, "I will seek the
quiet little pool where some of the water lingers. Then, if the clouds
give a deep shadow, I can see the Timid Hare I now am."
"Good," muttered The Stone when she returned and examined her little
slave. But when Black Bull noticed the change, he said nothing--only
looked sad. Perhaps he felt that the little stranger had somehow lost
herself.
THE VISIT
One day, soon after Timid Hare's coming, she was sent to the chief's
tepee on an errand. The Stone and she had been gathering rushes for
the chief's daughter Sweet Grass who wished them for a mat she was
weaving.
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