"Cultus potlatch?" she asked again.
Although Jean was not certain as to the maiden's meaning, she gave her the ribbon and tried to think her excusable.
"Did you want it? Was that what you meant?
"Nowitka! Cultus potlatch! Hy-as klosh!
Jean tied the ribbon in a double bow-knot around the girl's tawny neck, and Le-Le, studying its effect in the little mirror on the wall, exclaimed with a low chuckle, " Hi-yu klosh!"
"Oh, daddie darling," exclaimed Jean, opening the door and springing to his embrace, "did you think your historian was lost?"
"Yes; or worse!" replied her father, his anger displacing anxiety as soon as he saw that she was safe. " This isn't the first time you 've lost yourself on this trip. If it happens again, I'll—"
"Don't chide or punish the young lady, please!" interposed her obliging host. "If you had seen how badly frightened and anxious she was last night when she found herself left alone among strangers, you'd forgive her without a word."
"That's so, daddie," sobbed Jean.
"I surrendered my country-seat to her, and sent for this little Indian maiden to keep her company."
There was a touch of humor in his tone, augmented by a kindly smile, which sent the hot blood into the truant's face and made her heart beat hard.
"Won't you thank the gentleman, daddie? I might have been murdered but for him."
"Of course I thank the gentleman; but that doesn't lessen your offence. You deserve a good thrashing!"
"Which I'll never get, daddie dear! "Then turning to her host, she added, "Daddie never whips us, but he threatens us sometimes."
"I think I owe you a little explanation, Captain," said
