He had given no
news, and McLeod and his sons could only
guess at the state of affairs upon the Mouse
River.
While the men were in council with her
father, Magaskawee had turned over the con-
tents of her work-bag. She had found a small
roll of birch-bark in which she kept her porcu-
pine quills for embroidery, and pulled the deli-
cate layers apart. The White Swan was not
altogether the untutored Indian maiden, for
she had lived in the family of a missionary in
the States, and had learned both to speak and
write some English. There was no ink, no pen
or pencil, but with her bone awl she pressed
upon the white side of the bark the following
words:
MR. ANGUS McLEOD:--
We are near the hollow rock on the Mouse River. The
buffalo went away across the Missouri, and our powder and
shot are gone. We are starving. Good-bye, if I don't see
you again.
MAGASKAWEE.
The girl entrusted this little note to her
grandmother, and she in turn gave it to the
messenger. But he, as we know, was unable
to deliver it.
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