The old squaw came with food ready cooked, and brought, too, a sack of parched corn for David’s pouch. The food he devoured as he stood, and then, John having returned to his own family, he made his way to the spring, somewhat shamefacedly, and, as he scooped the water from it, saw himself reflected vaguely in the surface. The first glimpse was startling, for he who looked back from the rippled mirror might well have been a young Indian. Even the boy’s features seemed to have changed; as, indeed, they had since his coming to the village, for lean living had sharpened the cheek-bones and made thinner the nose; and now it was a Wachoosett brave, painted and feathered, who was reflected back from the spring. The vision brought a little thrill to David, for there was something almost uncanny in the marvels wrought by the stain and the pigment and the few gay feathers.
An hour later the exodus had begun. A handful of braves had left the village long before, and at intervals others had followed, but the main body of the tribe began to straggle through the gate an hour after sun-up. Ahead, pretending no military or-
