Beside it squatted a noble-looking brave, wrapped in a bear-skin robe, and with eagles' feathers waving from the top of his head. Chains of wampum hung around his neck and his face was painted in long, bright lines.
Not far from him sat a beautiful and richly-dressed young girl, his daughter. She looked kindly at Swift Fawn as if to say: "Do not fear, little girl."
"Behold, a child of the Mandans. I give her into your hands, great Chief," said Swift Fawn's captor to the brave by the fireside.
Bent Horn seemed in no hurry to speak, as he looked keenly at the child who could not lift her eyes for fear.
"Is the girl of the weak Mandans to live, or to be a slave among our people?" asked the warrior.
Bent Horn was about to answer, as his daughter broke in: "Father, let her live. I wish it."
The Chief turned toward the young girl with love in his eyes. He smiled as he said, "Sweet Grass shall have her wish."
His face became stern, however, as he added: "That shrinking creature must be trained. Give her into the keeping of The Stone, and let this girl henceforth be known as Timid Hare."
As Bent Horn spoke he motioned to Swift Fawn's captor to take her away, and the man at once led her out of the lodge and through the camp to a small tepee on the outskirts, where the old woman, The Stone, lived with her deformed son, Black Bull.