tribe marvelled that he did not seek for a bride the beautiful Mahanara. Some said that it was whispered among those who knew her best, that her thoughts were as the scent of the sweet vine she had planted and trained over the door of her wigwam, intended for the narrow circle at home, but drifting away far off on the fitful breeze; for when she would not, she sighed as she remembered the young warrior.

Once, some of the village girls told her that they heard that he had chosen a bride who lived far[Pg 62] beyond the waters, and the great ridge of the Blue Mountains.

[Pg 62]

She replied, and her words seemed to die as they reached the ear, that the one whom he had chosen for his wife, ought not to plant the corn for his food but where the flowers covered the sod which she was to overturn in her spring tasks, that she must bring him water from the spring on the high hills where the Great Spirit had opened the fountains with his lightning, and where in vallies the pure snow lingered longest of all that fell in the winter; that when he came back from the hunter's far journey or from the terrors of his war path, her face must assure him of all the love and praise of his tribe, as the lake tells all the moon and stars shed abroad of glory in the pure midnight.

The story that was a secret sorrow to her was false, and no maiden should have whispered it. It came not over a path that was trodden by warriors. The dove would not fly in the air which was burdened by such tidings. Awaha loved her, and because she feared to meet him freely, and seemed to turn away as he drew near, he thought that she loved him not.

One night he fell asleep by the great fire of the hunters. The companions of the chase had counted their spoils, and spoke with joy of their return, of the glad smiles that awaited them, of the hum of the[Pg 63] voices of the children as they drew near to the village.

[Pg 63]

He dreamt that he came near to his solitary dwelling-place. He was all alone on the path of the forest. He heard the unending sounds which are in the great wilderness, none of which ever removes the lonely shadow from the heart,—the shadow that has fallen on endless generations, that speaks of countless graves amid the trees, and of countless hosts that are out of sight in the spirit land.

That I could hear, he thought, one voice breaking the stillness of my way! That I could look to the end of the thick trees and know that when I issued from their darkness, as the light would be above me, 

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