The anxiety that had been in the minds of these two Indians during the last twenty minutes, while they had been running two or three miles, quickly left them, and there was a gleam of pride in their dark eyes to think that this cool, brave woman, whose unerring shot had thus killed the bear, was of their own race and tribe.
Mrs Ross, although cultured and refined and the wife of a great white man, was always the loving friend of her own people, and did very much for their comfort and happiness. Here was something done by her that would, if possible, still more exalt her in their estimation; and so this story, with various additions and startling situations added on, long was a favourite one in many a wigwam and at many a camp fire.
The bear was soon dragged ashore and skinned. It was then cut up and the meat packed away in the canoe. And the children rejoiced that that bear would never, never steal any more jam.
Chapter Eleven.
The Wonderful Story of Apetak, the Grateful Indian, and the Description of the Trip to and View of the Silver Cave, as told by Mr Ross at Sagasta-weekee.
“Tell us a true story to-night,” said little Roderick, the youngest in the family and the pet of all, as he climbed up on his father’s knee.
“Yes, please, Mr Ross,” said Sam, “tell us that wonderful story your father told you about the old Indian and the silver cave.”
It was a capital night for a good story. The rain was pattering against the window panes, while the winds, fierce and wild, were howling around the buildings, making it vastly more pleasant to be inside than out, even on a first-class hunting excursion.