My son has lived among the whites, and got some of their fashions," said the old Indian, seeing that these movements were watched, with no very approving eyes, by the group of savages on the floor; "but he is a brave, true warrior, and few can shoot the arrow with him."
After supper, pipes were produced, but Torch Eye did not smoke. He walked back to the stand where Black-bird was at her basket-making again. Fox Heart came along with the strips of cloth on which Nattie had wrought their names with beads.
"Here is writing," said the boy, holding them forth.
Touch Eye took them in his hand.
"I know all the letters," said Light-foot.
"They is our names," lisped little Sweet Fern.
Torch Eye read them. The last that he came to was "Nathalie Norton."
"Who is that?" he asked.
"That is Tulip," said Fox Heart. "It was her
