ing what she might reply. Perhaps, too, he feared that reply might be “Awnam,” which he believed to signify “dog.” She disappeared inside with her treasures, and presently he heard the faint crackling of the wood as the flames took hold. How she had started the fire he could not imagine, for there had seemed to be only lifeless embers there before her coming, and she had surely not brought fire with her.
Meanwhile his neighbors were partaking of their meal. The stout Indian held a pointed stick in his hand and with it speared the strips of half-cooked meat from the kettle which the squaw had placed before him where he sat. From the kettle the meat went straight to his mouth, dripping upon him, whereupon, having laid aside his pipe, he used his hands to tear it apart or thrust it in. A few feet away the squaw sat on her heels, silently watchful. Occasionally, and only occasionally, the man, having drawn forth a strip of meat whose looks he did not favor, held it forth to the woman and she seized it from the end of the stick and transferred it quickly and hungrily to her mouth. Once the morsel dropped from the point of the stick to the earth, but she showed no
