The Plow-Woman

by Eleanor Gates

"Perhaps only another," answered Canada John.

There was a great laugh, like the cry of a full-fed loon. "Surely Big Ox stays not long! But how can my friends be sure that The Double-Tongue will have horses ready?"

"He claims a reward."

"Ho! Ho! and what?"

Canada John halted close to Squaw Charley. "There is a cottonwood lodge beyond the river," he said. "It should belong to The Double-Tongue. He is kept out. An old pale-face and his two daughters seized it in the Moon of Wild Cherries, and they would not go."

"An old man, you say?"

"But he hunts the white buffalo. Only the daughters are there."

"Are they young?"

"Young and sleek. One is called The Plow-Woman. She is tall, and she watches like the antelope. The younger has hair like the grass when it is withered."

"They live alone?"