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stopped when I came in sight of the lake. A birch bark canoe was pulled up at the shore.
    My friends from the Indian village were here!
    Grandmother was in the cabin alone. I remembered how scared Max and I had been when we met the Indians for the first time. I broke into a run.
    I pushed open the cabin door. A tall man stood in the middle of the room. It was Peter, Sarah’s son. He had long black braids and was dressed in fringed buckskin pants and shirt. A hunting knife hung at his side. Sarah sat upright on a chair, beaming at Grandmother. Her cheeks werebrown and wrinkled, and she was wearing a faded calico dress and moccasins.
    Grandmother stood with her back against the bedroom door. She clutched her black shawl tightly. Her face was white.

9

    Sarah pointed to her chest. “Sarah,” she said. She gave Grandmother a huge toothless smile.
    Grandmother swallowed. “Agatha,” she whispered.
    â€œAgatha,” said Sarah. She nodded, her black eyes crinkling. Then she rummaged in a big basket on the floor beside her and pulled out a pipe. She chewed on the end and watched Grandmother with interest.
    Grandmother’s lips tightened. Her eyes flickered around the cabin.
    A girl burst through the door, her long black braids flying. “There you are, Ellie!” she cried. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
    It was Annie, Peter’s daughter. Annie was my age. She had been living with a white family near The Landings to learn English. She had come home to the lake for the summer, but I hadn’t seen her yet.
    Sarah took the pipe out of her mouth. She pointed at Annie. “Granddaughter,” she said proudly.
    Then she pointed at me. “Granddaughter,” she repeated. Her face broke into another huge smile.
    Grandmother nodded faintly. Two red spots spread across her pale cheeks.
    â€œI can stay for a long visit,” said Annie. “My father will come back for me tonight.”
    I hugged Annie. Peter walked over to Sarah. He said something rapidly in Indian. Sarah shook her head hard. She beamed at Grandmother.
    â€œI stay too,” she said slowly and carefully. “I stay with Agatha.”
    I showed Annie and Sarah the baby fox. Grandmother had disappeared into the bedroom for a nap, shutting the door firmly.
    Annie cradled Lucky in her hands. “There’s a family of foxes behind our village. I’ve been watching them. Yesterday the mother fox brought the babies out of the den for the first time.”
    Annie stroked Lucky’s tiny ears. “The babies are pretty but not as pretty as this one. None of them are black.”
    I felt a pang of envy. Annie didn’t have to worry about the mother fox killing geese and chickens. The Indians lived peacefully with the wild animals.
    I warmed up a pan of milk, and Annie held Lucky while I fed him. Sarah smoked her pipe and watched us. Lucky sucked eagerly at the handkerchief for a while and then fell asleep in Annie’s hands. We put him back in the washtub. Sarah had fallen asleep too, her head nodding in the warmth of the fire.
    Annie and I went outside. I showed hermy sheep, and we decided they looked silly without their thick woolly fleeces. We spent the rest of the day hunting for bullfrogs beside the lake and picking wildflowers.

    Grandmother came out of the bedroom for supper. Her eyebrows shot up. Sarah was sitting on the floor beside the fireplace, her mouth full of porcupine quills. Bundles of grass were scattered around her. She was weaving a small delicate bowl with strands of the red and pale golden grass. She nodded at Grandmother.
    Grandmother watched Sarah work for a few minutes. Sarah’s nimble fingers wove a pattern of quills into the sides of the bowl.
    â€œVery pretty,” said Grandmother stiffly.
    She went to the table, her black dress rustling. I set out bowls of soup and bread, and Annie and I sat down beside her. Sarah stayed on the floor. When she had