Within the cabin an assortment of snake skins and some very large ears of dried corn formed a queer decoration on the log walls. A few skins, perhaps those of the prairie rat, were also in evidence, while the glossy red corn with its artistic husk hung gracefully over a strange picture, that Jane told Judith was a portrait of the famous medicine man Teekawata. Chairs were relics of civilization which must have touched the spot at some time in a period of miners transition. The table was nailed to the wall and on it the litter of stuff spoiled an otherwise rustic effect. An American stove in the corner was evidently of the same vintage as the chairs, and there were other bits of furniture and dishes—perhaps accepted in payment for the services of the medicine man, who for years had given some sort of service to the settlers and their families. “Not sisters?” asked and answered the old woman, to Judith and Jane. “No, but very good friends,” Mr. Allen replied with a ring in his voice that Jane and her chum fully appreciated. The old woman now took her place on a queer high stool. On a three-legged table just beneath this stool was a big Mexican earthen bowl. Carefully she took a cover off the rather pretty jar, and then opened what looked like a snuff box. This she squinted into with a show of importance and concern. “For the ladies’ good health I will ask Teekawata to make promise,” she began. Then she lifted the snuff box above her head and muttered some unintelligible wail. Judith had grasped Jane’s hand. The scene was getting weird and a return of the storm, a sort of backfire, made the whole thing seem uncanny. “Experience,” whispered Jane. “Gives us material for school work.” “Yes, but it is creepy,” answered back Judith. “I wish the storm would blow over.” The old woman continued to mumble and make cabalistic passes with the snuff box. Finally she took a match and dropped some powder from the box into the bowl, struck the match on the side of her stool and put the flame to the powder. Soon a slim string of smoke climbed out from the edge of the jar. Mr. Allen’s face wore so broad a smile that, if the girls had thought of attaching any significance to the performance, this would have dissipated it. “Teekawata, come!” called the Indian. “Midnight hair and starlight eyes,” began the squaw, “Teekawata sends greeting and health. In gold you will make the fortune of much. Much yet will you find in the great heart of friends. From the Bear come strong.” At this moment she brought her arms out in a gesture indicating strength, but Judith dodged. She liked the soothsaying as an entertainment, but objected to personal demonstrations. The old woman scowled. Jane was bowing her head in abject attention to make amends for her friend’s distraction. “The Bear star will give our girl power,” suggested Mr. Allen to keep the squaw on the right track through the clouds. “Hush!” exclaimed the woman. “Teekawata knows no white spirit.”