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 she could gain her native village once more. But Black-bird said that they would never again go that way. They would travel north this time, over the Canada border, perhaps.

Many days were spent in making preparations. The old squaw scrubbed and packed in a bag the little stock of utensils necessary for cooking. The tasteful willow baskets, in many varieties of form and finish, were put in as compact form as possible. The beaded moccasins and pin-cushions, on which Nattie had wrought so patiently and so much to her own detriment, were brought forth, carefully wrapped, and packed in leathern portmanteaus.

Nattie watched the process in sadness. It had been the wish of her heart, when her fingers were making those names and mottoes, that some of them might reach her mother's hand, and find a place on the work-table at which she was accustomed to sit, when not too feeble, and sew for her family. She almost thought, too, that some in-