"Ah, they are alive! They have the heart of fire. But, take care. It is always wet where they grow and small feet slip easily. If you were to soil your pretty clothes, old Katasha might be angry." "I'll take care. May I have all I can gather?" "All. Every one." Then Wahneenah returned into the cave and to a niche in its wall where, years before, she had put a store of dried corn, some salt, and a bit of tinder. The articles had been stored in earthen jugs, and it was just possible they might be found in good condition. If they were, she would show the man-child how to catch a fish out of the little stream in the cavern, where the delicate trout were apt to hide. Then they would make a fire as they had used in the old days, and she would cook for these white children such a supper as her own dear ones had enjoyed. "See, Gaspar, Dark-Eye. I will fetch you a line and hook. Sit quiet and draw out our supper--when it bites!" "But I have a far better hook than that in my pocket; and a line the Sauganash gave me, one day. I am a good fisher, Wahneenah. How many fish do you want for your supper?" "You are a good boaster, any way, pale-face, like all your race; and I want just as many fish as will satisfy our hunger. If you had your bow here, you might wing us a bird. Though that would not be wise, maybe. Keep an eye to the Sun Maid, lest she slip in the brook." "This is a funny place. It is an island, isn't it? Like the pictures in my geography; and there is a little creek through it, and another in a cave, and--I think it is beautiful. But you're funny, too, Wahneenah. You say my Kitty is a 'spirit,' and 'nothing can harm her,' yet you watch out for her getting hurt closer than the other mothers did." "You see too much, Dark-Eye. But--well, she is a spirit in a girl's body. If you let evil happen her it will be the worse for you. Hear me?" "I wouldn't let her get into trouble any sooner than you would, Wahneenah. I love her, too. She hasn't any folks, and I haven't any, except you, of course. She belongs to me." "Oh! she does? Well. Enough. We all belong to each other. We have made the bond." When the woman returned from her search in the cavern her face was very grave. Yet it should have been delighted, for she had found not only the corn and the other things she remembered, but a goodly store of articles, quite too fresh and modern to have remained there since she last visited the spot. There were dried beans, salted beef, cakes of sugar from her old maple trees--she knew her own mark upon them; and, besides these, were flour and tea in packages, such as had been distributed from Fort Dearborn among as many Indians as were entitled to receive them. It was both puzzling and disappointing to find her retreat discovered and appropriated by somebody else.