noon
And , inside , by a window , the biggest sat and watched the smoke , now a wavering spiral in the light breeze that fanned the prairie ; while their mother , knowing that the best way to receive an Indian is with corn-cakes and coffee , stood over the kitchen stove . But the little girl kept her sentinel place on the rain-barrel until the sun veered her shadow from the side of the house to the earth bank piled against it . Then she climbed down and , running to the sod barn , saddled , bridled , and mounted the swiftest horse in the stalls and careered back and forth between house and stable like an alert scout . When noon came and the cow-horn summoned the family to the dinner-table , not a sign of an Indian , beyond the smoke , had been seen . So , by the end of the meal , it was decided that a visit should be paid the camp to see how many braves composed it , and why they did not move on . The biggest brother volunteered to make the ride , and , when he started off , the little girl , whose horse had been fretfully gnawing the clapboarding at the corner of the kitchen , also mounted and followed on behind , riding warily . They skirted the corner of the freshly turned potato-field and wheeled into the reservation road behind the herd .