“Have you come a long distance?” she asked.

“Good ways—­live up north.”

“You are not a Sioux, then?”

“No—­don’t like Sioux—­bad people.”

“Why do you come in their neighborhood—­in their country?”

“’Cause I want to—­come see you.”

“You must come again—­”

At this juncture, the child in the cradle awoke and began crying.  The face of the savage assumed an expression of ferocity, and he said, abruptly: 

“Stop noise—­me tomahawk if don’t.”

As he spoke he laid his hand in a threatening manner upon his tomahawk, and the mother sprung up and lifted the infant in her arms for the purpose of pacifying it.  The dreadful threat had almost unnerved her, for she believed the savage would carry it out upon the slightest pretext.  But before that tomahawk should reach her child, the mother must be stricken to the earth.  She pressed it convulsively to her breast, and it quickly ceased its cries.  She waited until it closed its eyes in slumber and then some impulse prompted her to lay it upon the bed, and to place herself between it and the Indian, so that she might be unimpeded in her movements if the savage should attempt harm to her or her offspring.

Several moments now passed without the Indian speaking.  The interval was occupied by him in looking around the room and examining every portion upon which it was possible to rest his gaze.  The survey completed, he once more fixed his scrutiny upon the young wife, and suddenly spoke in his sententious, abrupt manner.

“Want sunkin eat.”

This question was a relief, for it afforded the wife an opportunity of expressing her kindness; but, at the same time, it caused a more rapid beating of her heart, since to procure what was asked, she would be compelled to pass out of the door, and thus not only approach him much more closely than she was willing, but it would be necessary to leave him alone with her infant until her return.

She was in a painful dilemma, to decide whether it was best to refuse the visitor’s request altogether or to comply with it, trusting to Providence to protect them both.  A casual glance at the Indian convinced her that it would be dangerous to thwart his wishes longer; and, with an inward prayer to God, she arose and approached the door.  As she passed near him, he moved and she involuntarily quickened her step, until she was outside.  The Indian did not follow, and she hurried on her errand.

She had gone scarcely a yard, when she heard him walking across the floor, and detected at the same moment, the cry of her infant.  Fairly beside herself with terror, she ran back in the house, and saw the savage taking down her husband’s rifle.  The revulsion of her feelings brought tears to her eyes, and she said: 

“I wish you would go away, I don’t like you.”

“Kiss me—­den I go!” said he, stepping toward her.