Bright-colored rags, feathers, beads, porcupine-quills, and even scraps of tin, were the ornaments upon which the squaws relied to make the toilets of their tribe “stylish” and beautiful; and Kitty—­tiny little woman that she was—­soon grew to agree with them perfectly in matters of taste.

To be sure, the Indian women never did anything quite so barbarous as to put their little girls’ feet into narrow shoes with high heels, nor fasten tight belts about their waists, so that the God-given machinery within could hardly work.  But they did many preposterous things, for all that.  They painted their bodies and tattooed their skins, by pricking figures on the flesh and rubbing in some staining juice when the blood appeared.  They even pierced their noses so that bright rings could dangle from them.  Many, too, hung bits of metal from their ears in a similar way—­but that may not strike my civilized readers as being a very barbarous custom.

X.

KA-TE-QUA’S “GOOD NIGHT.”

Thus weeks and months passed away, not so wearily to the prisoners, as to the poor, sorrowing hearts that mourned for them at home.  Tom’s brain was always busy in planning some mode of escape for himself and his little charges.  But, as he was still closely guarded, never being left alone for an instant, night or day, and as the children slept in the wigwam of Ka-te-qua, whose eyes seemed never intended to close, he concluded to wait patiently rather than to risk the lives of all three by an unsuccessful attempt.

Meantime, Ka-te-qua’s strong arms grew feeble, her arrow became less fatal in its aim, and her strange fits of moodiness filled Rudolph and Kitty with dread.

For hours she would sit at the entrance of her wigwam, chanting mournfully in the Indian tongue.  At such times she would compel the children to remain within,—­becoming frantic with crazy rage should they attempt to force past her into the pleasant sunshine; and they would sit together in the shadow, hoping that by some whim she would walk away, or that the long, long chant would cease.  One afternoon she kept them waiting in this way for hours.  The sun sank lower and lower into the distant prairie, and the crimson clouds faded to a dull gray.  Rudolph and Kitty sat listening to the wailing tones of Ka-te-qua’s voice until, as the evening grew dark and chilly, they found for themselves a scanty supper of parched corn, and after whispering their simple prayer, groped their way to bed.

The strange old creature ceased singing after a while, and entered the wigwam.  They could distinguish her form as she slowly moved about, before throwing herself down near the entrance to indulge in her usual cat-like sleep.  Afraid to speak to her, for they were not quite sure in what mood she might be, they watched her movements as well as they could, and at last felt sure that she was tottering slowly toward them.