part of a picnic. But hardly anyone would change trees with her, and by the design which masks as chance, everyone ran to another tree. At last she casually climbed her tree, agile as a cat, a feat which Delia alone was shabby enough to pretend not to see.
We started homeward when the red was flaming up in the west and falling deep in the heart of the river. By then Mary Elizabeth was almost at ease with us, but rather, I think, because of the soft evening, and perhaps in spite of our presence.
"Oh!" she cried. "Somebody grabbed the sun and pulled it down. I saw it go! !" Delia looked shocked. "You oughtn't to tell such things," she reproved her.
Mary Elizabeth flung up the arm with the torn sleeve and ran beside us, laughing with abandon. We were all running down the slope in the red light.
"We're Indians, looking for roots for the medicine-man," Delia called; "Yellow Thunder is sick. So is Red Bird. We're hunting roots." She was ahead and we were following. We caught at the dead mullein stalks and milk- weed pods and threw them away, and leaped up
