The woman at once stooped, dipped a cup into the pot which was
simmering over the coals, and handed it to Jean.

"Soup. Good," she said.

"It is good," Jean agreed after she had tasted it. "This will make me
strong. You are a fine cook. What is your name?"

"Kitty."

"Kitty what?"

"Kitty Sam."

"Is that all?"

"A-ha-ha."

"But you have an Indian name, have you not?"

"Injun name long. Babby no spik Injun name."

After Jean had finished her breakfast, she felt much refreshed. She
washed herself at a little brook which babbled through the forest, and
arranged as well as she could her tangled hair. One little pool served
as Nature's mirror, and in this she could see her face and the brooch
at her throat. She again recalled the happy day it had been given to
her. How long ago that seemed, and she wondered where Dane was now.
No doubt he was frantically searching for her, his heart filled with
grief and fear. She must get home as soon as possible, for she knew