" "Listen to Sarah Hoyt!" cried Ruth. Her long bony face was twisted with anger and hunger. "She's actually laughing. I despise her! It dishonors the dead to make friends with their murderers." Eben's heart broke for Ruth. Was that how she believed her mother had behaved? Dishonoring her dead? Ruth stormed over the snow to holler at Sarah, and Eben hoped Sarah would answer gently. But Ruth was caught by her Indian, who did not want the children's play interrupted. Ruth attempted suicide. She lunged at the Indian, grabbing his knife from his belt. Eben ran forward, crying, "No! Ruth! No, she doesn't mean it!" he shouted to the Indians. "Don't--" But her Indian simply caught Ruth's wrist in what must have been a painful grip and retrieved his knife. Ruth was willing to hate her own as much as she hated the Indians. But the Indians did not accept her hate. They respected her. No matter what Ruth did, they thought more of her. They had even named Ruth, using a special word to call her. (She didn't come.) "Mahakemo," they called her, and they enjoyed saying the word. It just made Ruth madder. It was amazing that Ruth would survive to kick and scream, she whose lungs had seemingly destined her for an early grave, while many who would be useful to the Indians, who would lift and carry and obey, were killed. It came to Eben that the Indians were not deciding who deserved life. They were deciding who deserved captivity. Being the property of an Indian was an honor. He just wished they were worthy of being fed."