"You hate him, but you got put food in his trail."
Bela hung her head. "I hate him!" she repeated doggedly.
Musq'oosis filled his pipe, and puffed at it meditatively for a while.
"You could get him," he said at last.
Bela looked at him with a new hope.
"But you got do w'at I tell you. Crying' won't get him. A man hates a cryin' woman. Mak' a dry face and let on you don' care 'bout him at all. All tam laugh at him. You can't do that, I guess. Too moch fool!"
Bela frowned resentfully. "I can do it," she declared.
"All right," said Musq'oosis, "Let him go now. Keep away from him a while. Let him forget his mad."
"All right," agreed Bela.
"Now go see your mot'er," commanded Musq'oosis. "She sicken for you. She is white, too."