Just then there was a rap at the front door. “Oh! Oh! There they are now! Virg, you aren’t going to let them in?”
“Megsy, my dear, the only Indians living near here are the friendly Papagoes. Please do not hold me so tight.” The western girl had to fairly drag herself away from Margaret.
When the door was opened there on the porch stood the Indian maiden, Winona, and by her side was little Red Feather.
Virginia was delighted and embraced her Indian friend just as she would have welcomed a white girl whom she loved and had not seen for a long time.
“Margaret,” she called, “come and meet my dear friend Winona, of whom I have so often spoken.”
Margaret approached, feeling rather overcome by the sudden change of emotions. She held out her hand to the Indian girl and said sincerely that she was indeed glad to meet Virginia’s friend. Then she smiled at the little fellow whom she had called a “fierce warrior.” About his straight black hair there was a band of green, in which, perched at a jaunty angle, was a bright red feather. The Indian boy’s white teeth gleamed as he said admiringly:
“Fast pony! Go zip!”
Luckily neither of the Papago visitors had suspected that Margaret had been frightened by their sudden appearance at the sand hills.
“Can’t you stay awhile, Winona?” Virginia asked.
“Not this time. Some other, perhaps. My father, Chief Grey Hawk, awaits me. We have buying to do in town, but I wanted to tell you the nice young man, your friend, he came and went again soon to the north. Red Feather showed him the way. He reached there safely.”