Although Jean was not certain as to the maiden’s meaning, she gave her the ribbon and tried to think her excusable. “Did you want it? Was that what you meant?” “Nowitka! Cultus potlatch! Hy-as klosh!” Jean tied the ribbon in a double bow-knot around the girl’s tawny neck, and Le-Le, studying its effect in the little mirror on the wall, exclaimed with a low chuckle, “Hi-yu klosh!” * * * * * “Oh, daddie darling,” exclaimed Jean, opening the door and springing to his embrace, “did you think your historian was lost?” “Yes; or worse!” replied her father, his anger displacing anxiety as soon as he saw that she was safe. “This isn’t the first time you’ve lost yourself on this trip. If it happens again, I’ll—” “Don’t chide or punish the young lady, please!” interposed her obliging host. “If you had seen how badly frightened and anxious she was last night when she found herself left alone among strangers, you’d forgive her without a word.” “That’s so, daddie,” sobbed Jean. “I surrendered my country-seat to her, and sent for this little Indian maiden to keep her company.” There was a touch of humor in his tone, augmented by a kindly smile, which sent the hot blood into the truant’s face and made her heart beat hard. “Won’t you thank the gentleman, daddie? I might have been murdered but for him.” “Of course I thank the gentleman; but that doesn’t lessen your offence. You deserve a good thrashing!” “Which I’ll never get, daddie dear!” Then turning to her host, she added, “Daddie never whips us, but he threatens us sometimes.” “I think I owe you a little explanation, Captain,” said the host. “I might have risked taking your daughter across the river in a rowboat last night if it had been safe to trust her on the other side after dark. There are Indians camped along the way; and, though they are peaceful enough when they are compelled to be, they are not trustworthy under all circumstances. But my servant, Siwash, has breakfast ready and waiting. I can’t allow you to go on till you have broken your fast.” The host conducted his guests into the dugout to a table loaded with a bountiful supply of coffee, fish, venison, hot biscuit, beans, and wapatoes,—the last two dishes being deftly exhumed from the depths of a bed of ashes, where they had been cooked to perfection during the night. “Your servant is an artist in his business,” said the Captain, in praise of the food. “Yes, Captain. I found him a slave, and, seeing he was superior to most of his class, I purchased him for what you would consider a trifle. Then, as time wore on, I encouraged him to buy his freedom from me. He is now trying to purchase his sister; but he finds it slow work, as her value increases as she gets older and better able to dig camas and tan buffalo hides.” “It is awful to enslave the Indians!” cried Jean. “The Government ought to stop it!”