“Come,” said the stranger, “this is a cold [[205]]and cheerless place. My father’s lodge is close by, and he asks you to be his guest.”
New Robe arose and shook the grass from his robe. “It is strange,” he said, “that I did not see your camp. Before I descended into the valley from the prairie I looked carefully over it, up and down.”
“It is very near here,” the stranger replied. “Come, let us go in. My father waits for us, and the night is cold.”
He started, and led the way out over the ice, which had frozen from the shore for some distance out into the pond. New Robe followed, wondering why they should take that course. Presently they reached the edge of the ice; just beyond, a large beaver house rose above the water.
“That is our home,” said the stranger. “Now, I am going to dive, and you must follow me. Just shut your eyes, and do not be afraid.”
With a great splash he disappeared in the water, and New Robe, after hesitating a little and praying to the Sun for aid in this strange adventure, closed his eyes and pitched headlong into the place where his companion had disappeared. After swimming a few strokes, he felt [[206]]the pressure of the water suddenly give way, and, opening his eyes, found that he was in a great circular lodge. From the doorway a pool of water extended into the centre of it, and between its edge and the walls were beds of soft and beautiful robes. On the one at the back sat a kind-looking old man, who spoke pleasantly to him and bade him take a seat by his side; and as New Robe stepped out of the pool he found that he was perfectly dry—no part of his clothing or person had been wet by the water he had passed through. Near the old man sat his wife, a handsome old woman, and on other beds reclined their two sons, one of whom had guided New Robe to the place. They all wore clothing of beautiful material and fashion, but he now noticed that the skin of each of these persons, wherever it could be seen—even their faces—was covered with fine fur, that of the two sons being pure white.
“You are welcome, my son,” said the old man—“welcome to the lodge of the Beaver Chief. One of my sons saw you creeping into your nest of grass, and I bade him invite you in. These nights are cold for one to be without shelter.” [[207]]
“Yes,” added his wife, “and no doubt the poor young man is hungry; he seems to be lean and pinched.”
“Oh! Ai! To be sure,” said the old man; “of course he is hungry: just give me a dish, and I will prepare some food for him.”
New Robe looked in astonishment at what the Beaver Chief was doing. He took a large buffalo chip and placed it in the dish, and began to break it up into fine pieces, singing, as he did so, a strange song. The hard, dry stuff turned into rich pemmican, and when the last bit of the chip had been broken up the bowl was passed to him. His wonder increased when he found that the food tasted as good as it looked.