"May I--may I not know that too ?" "Shock-kil-law," came the ready reply.
"That readily becomes Keela!" exclaimed Diane smiling.
The girl nodded.
"So Mic-co has said.

And so indeed he calls me." "Tell me, Keela, what does it mean ?" "Red-winged blackbird," said Keela.
It was eminently fitting, thought Diane, and glanced at Keela's hair and cheeks.
There was a wild duck roasting in the hub of coals--from the burning spokes came the smell of cedar.

The Indian girl majestically broke a segment of koonti bread and proffered it to her companion.

With faultless courtesy Diane accepted and presently partook with healthy relish of a supper of duck and sweet potatoes.
The silence of the Indian girl was utterly without constraint.
"I wonder," begged Diane impetuously, "if you'll tell me who Mic-co is?
I'm greatly interested.

He taught you about Rome ?" Nodding, the Indian girl said in her quaint, deliberate English that Mic-co was her white foster father.