It did not take Stella long to improvise bandages from some of her own
garments, which she tore into strips, and bound up the wound so that it
stopped bleeding at last.
Another drink of water so refreshed the Indian girl that she tried to
rise, but Stella gently forced her back, and told her to rest.
Stella never rode away from camp without taking food in a small bag,
which was attached to the cantle of her saddle.
She now bethought herself of it, and hurried away for it.
The Indian girl was ravenously hungry, and her faintness was as much due
to her abstinence from food as from the loss of blood.
But when she had eaten she appeared much stronger.
"What is your name?" asked Stella.
The girl looked up at her and smiled.
"I am Singing Bird, daughter of Cloud Chief," she answered.
"You can speak English well," said Stella, at which the girl looked
pleased.
"Yes, I went to the Indian school, and learned to speak and to sing
hymns."
"How do you come to be here?"
"My man shot me."
"What?" cried Stella, in a horrified tone. "Your man shot you? What do
you mean by that?"
"I am Running Bear's squaw."
"You are married to Running Bear?"
The girl nodded her head.
"And did Running Bear shoot you?"
"Yes. He shot me and left me to die."
"The horrible brute.
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