"Don't mind him," said the woman, kindly; "tell me what you want. Won't you sit down?"
The two boys stood hesitating, then George began in a sepulchral voice, "Woman, we are the commanded, the bearers of the Word of Command. We come to demand of you a bag of pemmican. Give plenty—"
"Willingly," corrected Edwin, in a whisper.
"Willingly, and you shall go beyond the four hills of life without—without—"
"Stumbling," prompted Edwin.
"Stumbling; there shall be no weariness in the pathway of life—" and so on to the end of the ritual.
The woman clapped her hands, and shouted with laughter, as she exclaimed, "If your cloud and lightning and thunder do all you say they will do, they have more power than I supposed they had! Sit down and wait a while, and I will have some pemmican ready for you."
"Did those old White-chests teach you all that?" asked the husband. "If they did, they have been stealing the rituals of some of our priests, and—"
"Oh, let them alone!" said the wife; "they came to see me."