It was to be a surprise for her father; she meant it to be so
beautiful that he would wish to sit on it at feasts when entertaining
chiefs of other bands.
The Stone and Timid Hare had spent many hours searching for the most
beautiful rushes, and the old squaw was pleased at having succeeded at
last.
"Sweet Grass's mother will give me much bear meat for getting the
rushes for her daughter," she thought. But to Timid Hare she only
said: "Take these to the home of our chief and place them in the hands
of Sweet Grass. Make haste, for she may already be impatient."
The Stone did not know that Sweet Grass had ever seen Timid Hare, nor
that she had begged her father for the child's life.
The little girl was glad to go. She had thought many times of the
chief's daughter, and of her kind face and gentle voice. Whenever she
had gone near Bent Horn's tepee she had been on the lookout for Sweet
Grass, but she had not been able to get a glimpse of her.
As Timid Hare trudged along with her load she thought of that dreadful
night after her capture. "I think I would have died of fright but for
the sight of the chief's beautiful daughter," she said to herself.
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