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"She is not a lady," says Lady Rodney, as though that should terminate the argument. "Very good," says Mona, indifferently, after which the woman, having straightened a cushion or two, takes her departure. The door of the room she is approaching is wide open, and inside, as Mona draws nearer, it becomes apparent that some one is talking very loudly, and with much emphasis, and as though determined not to be silenced. Argument is plainly the order of the hour. Going to the place where his friend had lain, Talking Rock sat down and mourned, wailing long and loud. Back on the hills the wolves and coyotes heard him and they too became sorrowful, adding their cries to his..