She had grown thinner during the last few weeks, and her hollow cheeks were tinted with a hectic flush.
“Rest your head on my lap, Sansuta.”
As Alice spoke, she gently caught the poor girl in her arms.
“I am tired, oh, so tired!” said Sansuta.
“You must not walk so far as this another time. We must seek some place nearer to the town.”
The Indian girl did not appear to heed her, but commenced singing softly to herself.
She paused abruptly in her song, and looked up into her companion’s face.
“Last night I dreamed I was in another land, walking along a footpath. It was strewn with lovely flowers. On both sides were beautiful creeping plants, over which bright butterflies sailed. There were two birds—such birds—their plumage of silver and gold. I heard music. Was it the land of the Great Spirit? Do you think it was?”
“Who knows? it might have been!”
“There I met my father. Not stern as our warriors are, but sad and weeping. Why did he weep?”