than from the remedies administered by the hand of the old chief, who had not much skill, though a strong desire to heal the young Tulip,—the Great Spirit's gift, as he invariably styled her.
Old North Wind stayed at home now, week after week. He made new bows, pointed his arrows, and patched the wigwam. He was gloomy and taciturn much of the time. Something seemed to weigh heavily on his mind. But Nat tie had never felt so bright and cheery since her capture as she did for weeks after her interview with Augustus Reid. She marveled that he did not come again to the wigwam, as he had said that he would do, and wondered if he had not called, on some of the days when her head had been dazed, so that she had forgotten his visit, or, perhaps, not been aware of it. She at length concluded to see what information Fox Heart could give her, and began to question him one night, when Black-bird and her mother were abroad in the forest, gathering nuts, and the old chief sleeping on his mat.
