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HILE the three squaws were abroad in the forest, searching for nuts in places where the snow had drifted away, they talked together concerning the hardships of their lives at the wigwam.

"Woe was the day we left our own cabin and came to this side of the forest," said Pink Ear. "At home we could smoke, and eat, and take our ease, but here we are driven about by the white papoose, so that there is no rest for the poor squaw by day nor night, for when she lies down to sleep, she thinks of the toils of the morrow, and