There were no days of the week here in the forest. All the child knew was her fixed hate for Claire, who called herself Stone Girl. At first when Claire had come to camp, Nan had turned to her eagerly as a familiar face from home, had thrown her small arms about her and poured out her misery. It was almost as if her own mother had returned from the grave. But Claire had turned out to be no better than the other Indians. She had ordered the child to stop crying, and when Nan cried the louder, she had done the unforgivable, and twisted the child’s arm unbearably.

“Let me alone. You’re as bad as the rest!” Nan had screamed, and slapped her.

If Claire minded, her face gave no indication. She looked almost pleased. From then on it was plain that she cared only to stir up the child’s anger. When Nan shed tears or fell down on the march crying she wouldn’t take another step, Claire would badger her till she jumped up and called Claire bad names that made the Indians laugh. They liked nothing better than a fight between these two. Their painted faces broke into grins at the child’s fury. It looked as if Claire provoked her only to please the savages so she and Otter Boy could go free while she, Nan, had to be tied to a tree at night and by day hitched to Osgaak, the short Indian with the big head who claimed her.

Twice the party stayed two nights at the same place while the men left mysteriously by day. The first time the young savage with the curly maple rifle remained to guard camp. He and Claire spoke together in the Indian jargon.

“What do they talk so much about?” Nan asked Otter Boy.

“They talk about the Tuscarawas and Waldhoning and the Great Sweet Water,” he told her.

When the savages returned that evening the girl shrank from the dripping scalps. Two days later the men left again and this time Osgaak stayed to guard camp. He was limping painfully now. On the last raid he had been wounded in the foot and now had it wrapped in a large clump of calico from some woman victim’s dress. Claire warned Nan not to cross him or stir up his further hatred for the race that had lamed him. Once when Nan forgot herself and whined at him, he cuffed her to the ground, and when she cried out, he came for her with his scalp knife until Claire stopped him.

From that moment, the small girl sat frozen, afraid to move, and the savage turned his temper on Otter Boy. When Claire defended the boy, Osgaak shouted furiously at her and pointed for them to go, coming very close, pushing her back when she stood her ground. It enraged him to have Otter Boy push protectingly between them. He sent the boy sprawling and seized her.

Nan watched paralyzed. She saw Claire struggle with him and Otter Boy come to his mother’s help, kicking and pounding the Indian’s legs. The savage paid no attention till the boy’s foot struck the lump of spotted calico. Then with a wild face he turned, seized him by the legs, and swung him in a rage against the nearest hemlock butt. There was no cry from the little fellow, no sound except a queer sickening almost liquid smack, and the small active body lay still.