loved thee—loved thee here as I wandered in the village—loved thee far off on the prairies—loved thee when the shout told that the vanquished fled from our onset. Be my bride, and the Great Spirit will know where is the Indian whose step on earth is the lightest." He saw that the tears were falling fast as he spoke, and that she did move as a maiden at the plea of her lover. "Thou hast waited," she said, "to move thy flower until the winter has hold of its roots in the ground hard as the rock. Hadst thou come before the snow had melted, then Mahanara had gone with thee. Then together we had cared for him who can go out on the hunt no more. But seest thou these links of the bleached bone carved with these secret symbols? Seest thou the fragment of the broken arrow-head? Thou knowest how these bind me to another. I will pray for thee to the Great Spirit. A warrior's wife may pray for a warrior. Seek thou another and a better bride among the daughters of our tribe."[Pg 66] [Pg 66] "It cannot be," he said. "I shall go away from the land where the sun shines, like the lone tree amid the rocks. It shall wither and die, and who will know that it ever cast its shade for the hunter." "Ah not so," she said, "it is the shadow of to-day. Seek the wife that is on the earth for thee. If she has sorrow send for me and I will hold up her fainting head. If I comfort her, then shall I also comfort thee. I will speak the praises of thy tribe and she will love me." Awaha sat in his lonely house day after day, and friends looked on him in sorrow and said that the Great Spirit was calling him, for his last path was trodden. They sought me in their sorrow, not regarding the long weary journey. My home is in a deep dark cave on the side of the mountain. The great horn from the monster that has never roamed the forest since the Indian began to hand down the story of his day hangs on the huge oak at the entrance. The blasts shake the forest, and I hear it far down below the springs in the earth where I burn my red fires. In vain I tried all my arts to drive from him the deep and lasting sorrow. So I sought the aid of my mother whose home is near the great river that pours its waters from the clouds—over which the storm of heaven seems to rage in silence. She heard my story, and she arrayed herself in her strange robe bright with the skins of snakes from a land where the sun always[Pg 67] keeps the earth green and warm. On her head were the feathers of the eagle and of the
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