Camp lost, little sister."
"Can we find um, little brother?"
"Oh, yes, we find um. Find um bimeby, pretty soon quick now, after
storm."
"But storm last all night, and it's soon dark. Can we rest and not
freeze? Mooka tired and--and frightened, little brother."
"Sartin we rest; build um _commoosie_ and sleep jus' like bear in his
den. Oh, yes, sartin we rest good," said Noel cheerfully.
"And the wolves, little brother?" whispered Mooka, looking back timidly
into the wild waste out of which they had come.
"Never mind hwolves; nothing hunts in storm, little sister. Come on, we
must find um woods now."
For one brief moment the little hunter stood with upturned face, while
Mooka bowed her head silently, and the great storm rolled unheeded over
them. Still holding his long bow he stretched both hands to the sky in
the mute appeal that _Keesuolukh_, the Great Mystery whom we call God,
would understand better than all words. Then turning their backs to the
gale they drifted swiftly away before it, like two wind-blown leaves,
running to keep from freezing, and holding each other's hands tight lest
they separate and be lost by the way.
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