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Soon they heard another person shouting out the feast call, and, going, they entered the lodge of the chief of the Kit-Foxes (Sĭn´-o-pah). Here, too, old men had gathered. After they had eaten of the food set before them, the chief said, "Those among whom you have just come are generous. They do not look carefully at the things they have, but give to the stranger and pity the poor. The kit-fox is a little animal, but what one is smarter? None. His hair is like the dead grass of the prairie; his eyes are keen; his feet make no noise when he walks; his brain is cunning. His ears receive the far-off sound. Here is our medicine. Take it." He gave the man the stick. It was long, crooked at one end, wound with fur, and tied here and there with eagle feathers. At the end was a kit-fox skin. Again the chief spoke and said, "Listen to our song. Do not forget it, and the dance, too, you must remember. When you reach home teach them to the people." He sang and danced. Then presently his guests departed.,

"The names are original, at all events," says Geoffrey,—"which is a great charm. One gets so tired of 'Rags and Tatters,' 'Beer and Skittles,' 'Cakes and Ale,' and so forth, where pairs are in question, whether they be dogs or ponies.",

Now during this day there had been blowing a warm wind which had melted the snow, so that the prairie was covered with water, yet this young man's moccasins and leggings were dry. They saw this, and were frightened. They sat there for a long time, saying nothing.,

"I can't well get away before that, you know, as Wigley is a good way off. But I'll try all I know. And, after all," says Geoffrey, with a view to cheering her, "it isn't as bad as if I was ordered off somewhere for a week, is it?"

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"I do not shrink from it," replies she, bravely: "I would brave anything to be friends with your mother.",

No sun upon an Easter day,

Every flower has opened wide its pretty eye, because the sun, that so long has been a stranger, has returned to them, and is gazing down upon them with ardent love. They—fond nurslings of an hour—accept his tardy attentions, and, though, still chilled and desolee because of the sad touches of winter that still remain, gaze with rapt admiration at the great Ph[oe]bus, as he sits enthroned above.,

"Perhaps it will all come right at last. Oh! if some kind good fairy would but come to our aid and help us to confound our enemies!"