A word traveled in whispers, voices and footsteps were muffled and before the sun was an hour high there was no tepee standing but one on that white strip of beach.

And the one tepee was Yellow Bird's, Not until the camp was gone, leaving her alone, did Yellow Bird come out into the day.

She saw the food placed at her tepee door.

She saw the empty places where the homes of her people had stood, and in the wet sand of the beach the marks of their missing canoes.

Then she turned her pale face and tired eyes to the sun, and unbraided her hair so that it streamed glistening all about her and covered the white sand when she sat down again in front of the smoke-darkened canvas that had become her conjurer's house.
Two miles up the beach Slim Buck's people made another camp.