“They are more pleasant of appearance, perhaps?”
He smiled at that.
“Perhaps you say the truth, but I think your cheeks are pinker and your eyes brighter than the young women I know.”
The girl turned her face away from him.
“I must fish,” she said, “else my poor old grandfather will go hungry.”
Walking Moose, feeling an interest that was new to him, and prompted by a little devil that had never troubled him before, dropped his bow and put out his hand and took the coiled fish-line from the girl. Their fingers touched—and he was astonished at the thrill which he felt.
“You must tell me who you are, and where you come from,” he said, and his voice had a foolish little break in it. This vocal tremor was not lost on the girl.
“I belong to a small village on the great river, three days’ journey from here,” she said. “My old grandfather is my only friend. His name is Never Sleep. Because of his sharp tongue he became disliked by the people of the village, and so we journeyed to this place, and built a little hidden lodge. Never Sleep is very old, and spends all his days in brewing healing liquors from roots and barks. It is my work to keep the pot boiling.”
Walking Moose was impressed.
“You are a good girl to take such care of your old grandfather,” he said. “But why have you not brought him into my village to dwell?”