"Why! what, then, do you think it is?" asked the woman, putting her eyes close to the man's face, so that she could the better read its expression.
"Do you know whose wigwam it was that we burned?" he asked.
"Wasn't it that of the old man and squaws that lived in it?"
He shook his head slowly, and said:
"As we have since learned, they were only placed here by the owner, to take care of a young white squaw whom he had sometime stolen from the whites, and was keeping with great care, to be the wife of his son, some day."
The woman made a slight exclamation, and asked:
"Who, then, was the owner of the wigwam?"
"Did you ever hear of an Indian chief by the name of North Wind?"
"That have I," she answered, almost aloud, in her excitement at these words from her com-
