Bluebird cleaned her knife in the earth and slipped it into its beaded sheath, and started at once after the wild turnips. They grew profusely among the cottonwoods half a mile below the camp.
Bluebird had nearly reached the spot when a strange noise attracted her attention. Looking around she found that it came from a large old tin kerosene can standing a short ways off. She walked towards it curiously.
All of a sudden Elk flew out from behind a tree.
"Don't touch that!" he cried, warningly.
Bluebird started in surprise at finding him so near. She glanced cautiously into the open can. She recoiled from it with a horrified look.
"What are you going to do with those rattlesnakes, Elk?" she exclaimed.
"Something." A dark flush spread over the boy's face. He looked sullen and jaded.
Bluebird forgot her consternation in a flood of compassion for her unhappy-looking brother.
"I've come to dig turnips. You'll like them for dinner, won't you?" she said, pleasantly.
"I don't want any dinner," he answered.