A young squaw, with bright-red ribbons braided into her shining black hair, and great, sad eyes brightening the dull copper tint of her face.
"You no be 'fraid," she murmured shyly to Miss Georgie, and stopped where she was just inside the door.

"You no be sad.

No trouble come Good Injun.

I friend." Hagar turned, and snarled at her in short, barking words which Miss Georgie could not understand.

The young squaw folded her arms inside her bright, plaid shawl, and listened with an indifference bordering closely on contempt, one would judge from her masklike face.