"If you have no home, why don't you go home with me?" I asked, looking through the spy-glass. "I know my father and mother would like you the same as I do." "If I go home with you, I know I'll have a good time, but I haven't any home to ask you to. All the boys in the Big Seven do that way." "I don't care what the Big Seven do, I want you to go home with me." Saturday came. At breakfast I was anxious to have prayers over, Brush was to go home with me, and we anticipated much pleasure for the day. "Don't eat much," I whispered to him; "we're going to eat again when we get home. My mother will give us something good, she always does." After breakfast Brush went to the barn and filled the stalls with hay for the horses, which was part of the work assigned him. Then he ran up to the superintendent to report, and as soon as he came down we were off. On the hill we were joined by two white boys, children of one of the Government employees at the mill. "Hello! Going home?" asked one of them. "We're going to the village. They say they're going to have a horse race there to-day. We want to see it." Instead of taking the well-beaten path to the village, we all turned off into one that led directly to my father's house, and that passed by the burial-place on the bluffs. The two white boys were ahead, and when they came to a freshly made mound surrounded by a neat fence they stopped, and peered between the palings. "Pemmican!" exclaimed one of them. When Brush and I came up, we too looked in and saw on the grave a wooden bowl of pemmican. It was tempting these white boys, for they had learned to like this peculiar food. "Jack, give me a boost?" said one of them, and soon he was over the fence filling his pockets out of the bowl. Then he offered the remainder to the other boy. Brush and I were amazed and horrified at this action. We went straight on, taking no notice of the offer made by the boys to give us some of the stolen food. "I bet one of those boys will die before the year is gone," said Brush, turning and looking back at the irreverent little rascals, who were now tipping their heads backward and putting pinches of the meat into their mouths. "I bet so too!" I added. "It was awful the way they did. Let's go on fast; I don't want to be with them." And we sped down the hill on a brisk run. At the door of the house my mother met us and led us into her room. We both began to tell her about the dreadful thing the white boys had done, and expressed the belief that before the year was out one or both of them would die.