they would reach home in safety.  They had started before daylight, and without any breakfast, and the little boy who was enticed away had no overcoat nor mittens, but had gone on the impulse of the moment without taking any extra clothing.  About ten o’clock, it grew very cold, and as the little fellow had on shoes, to which he was unaccustomed, his feet became so cold and tired that he could not go on.  Then the boy who had coaxed him away gave him his overcoat and mittens and went on, reaching home about noon, telling that he had run away, and that he had left Jaran about half way.  Jaran’s father did not believe the story, and came back to us, ten miles, to see if it were true.  This made us very anxious, but nothing could be done but to await the issue.  It seemed as if a series of unfortunate mistakes had combined to bring about this result; and to make everything still more puzzling, Mr. Riggs, our superintendent, was away.  He reached home that evening, and the next morning sent the steward to learn the fate of the little runaway.  He went on until he found the little boy’s cap and mittens, and the place where he had evidently lain all night.  It was a bitter night, and we knew that he could not possibly have survived, in his exhausted condition, and not knowing how to protect himself, even if he had had the means for so doing.  This, in itself, was a very bitter experience for us, but the worst was yet to come.  Mr. Riggs found it impossible to get an Indian to go to the assistance of these poor people.  They were all afraid.  Rumors were afloat that the father was going to shoot anyone connected in any way with the school, Indian or white.  When an Indian is sorrow-stricken over the death of a friend or relative, he alleviates his suffering by killing some one else.

After the little boy was buried, the family came to the school.  The old grandmother brought the clothes he had on when found—­and which they had cut off,—­spread them out before Mr. Riggs, and reproached him for sending a little boy out into a storm so insufficiently clad; to which Mr. Riggs replied that we had no idea he was going out into the storm, that he was dressed for the house, and had we known he was going on a journey, he would have been dressed for it.  She would not be pacified, however, and after bitterly reproaching Mr. Riggs for the death of her grandson, she demanded pay for it, as if money would make up to them his loss.

That afternoon, at the woman’s meeting, we learned that they had given away everything they possessed, furniture, clothing, bedding, dishes, and were absolutely destitute of the barest necessities of life.  This is one of their customs.  They reason thus:  Our child is dead; our hearts are sad; life has no longer any attractions; take all we have.  The Christian Indian women in our church each gave something out of her little property to help these poor heathen people, who in their superstitious ignorance had made their lot so wretched.  Taking this, they returned home and demanded of the family of the other poor boy a cow in payment for the death of their child.