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A STRANGE GIRL. "Well, by the help of either her red gods or devils, she can swim, anyway!" This explosive statement was made one June morning on the banks of the Kootenai, and the speaker, after a steady gaze, relinquished his field-glass to the man beside him. "Can she make it?" he asked. A grunt was the only reply given him. The silent watcher was too muc…

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"Well, by the help of either her red gods or devils, she can swim,
anyway!"

This explosive statement was made one June morning on the banks of the
Kootenai, and the speaker, after a steady gaze, relinquished his
field-glass to the man beside him.

"Can she make it?" he asked.

A grunt was the only reply given him. The silent watcher was too much
interested in the scene across the water.

Shouts came to them--the yells of frightened Indian children; and from the
cone-shaped dwellings, up from the water, the Indian women were hurrying.
One, reaching the shore first, sent up a shrill cry, as she perceived
that, from the canoe where the children played, one had fallen over, and
was being swept away by that swift-rushing, chill water, far out from the
reaching hands of the others.

Then a figure lolling on the shore farther down stream than the canoe
sprang erect at the frightened scream.

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