violently, then raised it to her ear again, and finally burst into a
hearty laugh, and laid it down, acknowledging, by her looks, that this
was beyond her comprehension.

I had one shell of peculiar beauty--my favorite in the whole
collection--a small conch, covered with rich, dark veins. Each of the
visitors successively took up this shell, and by words and gestures
expressed her admiration, evidently showing that she had an eye for
beauty--this was on the occasion of the parting visit of my red
daughters.

Shortly after the payment had been completed, and the Indians had left,
I discovered that my valued shell was missing from the collection. Could
it be that one of the squaws had stolen it? It was possible--they would
occasionally, though rarely, do such things under the influence of
strong temptation. I tried to recollect which, among the party, looked
most likely to have been the culprit. It could not have been the
Washington woman--she was partly civilized, and knew better.

A few weeks afterwards Mrs. _Yellow Thunder_ again made her appearance,
and carefully unfolding a gay-colored chintz shawl, which she carried
rolled up in her hand, she produced the shell, and laid it on the table
before me. I did not know whether to show, by my countenance,
displeasure at the trick she had played me, or joy at receiving my
treasure back again, but at length decided that it was the best policy
to manifest no emotion whatever.

She prolonged her visit until my husband's return, and he then
questioned her about the matter.