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"Would you like to have a new robe?" asked Cold Maker. With the flint knives that had been given them they cut up the bodies of the dead buffalo. About this time Old Man came up and said to them, "It is not healthful to eat raw flesh. I will show you something better than that." He gathered soft, dry rotten wood and made punk of it, and took a piece of wood and drilled a hole in it with an arrow point, and gave them a pointed piece of hard wood, and showed them how to make a fire with fire sticks, and to cook the flesh of animals. "Oh, you have him!" says Mona, with a beaming smile, that is not reciprocated by the captured turkey. "Hold him tight: you have no idea how artful he is. Sure I knew you'd get him, if any one could!" "Not even to you," very gravely. There is reproof in her tone. They are standing somewhat apart, and her eyes have been turned from him. Now, as she says this, she changes her position slightly, and looks at him very earnestly. From the distant ballroom the sound of the dying music comes sadly, sweetly; a weeping fountain in a corner mourns bitterly, as it seems to Mona, tear by tear, perhaps for some lost nymph..