“Mother,” said Moonlight, with the spirit of her little father stirring in her breast, “I don’t fear Rushing River more than I do the sighing of the wind among the pine-tops. Is not my father here, and Whitewing? And does not Bounding Bull guard our wigwams?”
Brighteyes said no more. She was pleased with the thorough confidence her daughter had in her natural protectors, and quietly went on with the moccasin which she was embroidering with the dyed quills of the porcupine for Little Tim.
We have said that Moonlight was rather self-willed. She would not indeed absolutely disobey the express commands of her father or mother, but when she had made no promise, she was apt to take her own way, not perceiving that to neglect or to run counter to a parent’s known wishes is disobedience.
As the night was fine and the moon bright, our self-willed heroine, with her skipping playmate, rambled about the camp until they got so far in the outskirts as to come upon one of the sentinels. The dark-skinned warrior gravely told her to go back. Had she been any other Indian girl, she would have meekly obeyed at once; but being Little Tim’s daughter, she was prone to assert the independence of her white blood, and, to say truth, the young braves stood somewhat in awe of her.
“The Blackfoot does not make war against women,” said Moonlight, with a touch of lofty scorn in her tone. “Is the young warrior afraid that Rushing River will kill and eat us?”
“The young warrior fears nothing,” answered the sentinel, with a dark frown; “but his chief’s orders are that no one is to leave or enter the camp, so Moonlight must go home.”
“Moonlight will do as she pleases,” returned the girl loftily. At the same time, knowing that the man would certainly do his duty, and prevent her from passing the lines, she turned sharply round, and walked away as if about to return to the camp. On getting out of the sentinel’s sight, however, she stopped.
“Now, Skipping Rabbit,” she said, “you and I will teach that fellow something of the art of war. Will you follow me?”
“Will the little buffalo follow its mother?” returned the child.
“Come, then,” said Moonlight, with a slight laugh; “we will go beyond the lines. Do as I do. You are well able to copy the snake.”