"Father," the inquisitive maiden said, as she looked around, "have visitors arrived?"
"As you see."
"Strangers?"
"No, old friends, who, I hope, will soon be yours."
"Redskins?" she asked with an instinctive start of terror.
"All of them are not wicked," he answered with a smile: "these are kind." Then, turning to the Indian woman, who had fixed her black velvet looking eyes on Carmela with simple admiration, he called out, "Singing-bird!"
The squaw bounded up like a young antelope. "What does my father want?" she asked, bowing gently.
"Singing-bird," the hunter continued, "this girl is my daughter, Carmela," and taking in his bony hand those of the two women, he clasped them together, adding with emotion, "Love one another like sisters."
"Singing-bird will feel very happy to be loved by the White lily," the Indian squaw replied; "for her heart has already flown towards me."
Carmela, charmed at the name which the squaw with her simple poesy had given her, bent down affectionately to her and kissed her forehead.