Nattie; "but you shall clean the kettle for me."
"Clean it, yourself," said the youngest.
"I won't clean it myself," retorted Nattie, with flashing eyes. "You have been burning the broth on it, day after day, without once scraping or scouring it, and the ones that fouled it shall clean it."
The squaws looked at each other, and the old man wheezed and coughed. Nattie turned to the oldest squaw, and said, with an air of authority:
"Pink Ear, scrape the dinner-pot; soak it, and wash it till it is as clean and smooth as glass; for that is as it was when you began your house work here."
The squaw gave an insolent grunt, and sat still. Nattie went to the table, and, from a small drawer, drew forth a sheet of paper, on which she began to write with a pencil made of coal. The squaws soon commenced to whisper together, and the youngest approached the place where Nattie was seated.
