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Seton, Ernest Thompson, 1860-1946

"Being the adventures of two boys who lived as Indians and what they learned"

He brought in some sticks and fastened
the door as tightly as possible. The blazing fire in the teepee was
cheering again. The boys perhaps did not realize that there was
actually a tinge of homesickness in their mood, yet both were thinking
of the comfortable circle at the house. The blazing fire smoked a
little, and Sam said:
"Kin you fix that to draw? You know more about it 'an me."
Yan now forced himself to step outside. The wind was rising and had
changed. He swung the smoke poles till the vent was quartering down,
then hoarsely whispered, "How's that?"
"That's better," was the reply in a similar tone, though there was no
obvious difference yet.
He went inside with nervous haste and fastened up the entrance.
"Let's make a good fire and go to bed."
So they turned in after partly undressing, but not to sleep for hours.
Yan in particular was in a state of nervous excitement. His heart had
beaten violently when he went out that time, and even now that mysterious
dread was on him. The fire was the one comfortable thing. He dozed off,
but started up several times at some slight sound. Once it was a peculiar
"_Tick, tick, scr-a-a-a-a-pe, lick-scra-a-a-a-a-a-pe,_" down the teepee
over his head.


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