AN INDIAN ROMANCE

Sun (Auckland), Volume I, Issue 233, 21 December 1927, Page 6

AN INDIAN ROMANCE

Long ago, in the sheltered valley of the Cree encampment, there lived an Indian maiden. Her hair was as black as the shadow of the birch-tree on a moonless night, and her eyes were luminous pools of sadness. Many years before, her mother had been kidnapped by the Muskoka tribe. Her father, previously a happy chief, had lost his youth with his wife. His heart had been hardened ’and embittered. He lived only to avenge the dreadful deed. At the time my story begins. Prairie Wind was standing on the beach of the Lake of Many Waters. She had just received the tidings that her father

had promised her as the wife of Ragged Moccasin, and her heart was heavy with sorrow. Thinking t 0 find solace in the shadows of the pine-fringed lake, she stepped into a canoe and with deft rythmic strokes was soon gliding through the still waters. When she had travelled some distance from the encampment, she rested on her paddle, and, in a slow, crooning tone, gave vent to some of her sorrow by singing an old pathetic Indian love-song. When she reached the last verse the mellow voice of a brave joined in the strain. In dismay. Prairie Wind turned round so suddenly that, but for the alertness of the stranger, her canoe would surely have overbalanced. Murmuring discreet words of thanks, the maiden brought her paddle into play and was soon skimming over the glasslike surface of the lake. It was perhaps just by accident that the two should meet again the next evening, and for many evenings after. Then there came a night when the moon in its shimmering radiance rose above a belt of birches and the west wind whispered to the rippling wavelets, when White Elk told Prairie Wind of his great love. With maidenly reticence she answered that it was for her father, Lone Pine, to consider his suit. Next evening saw- a brave of the Muskoka tribe in ceremonial dress, approaching the Cree encampment to seek the hand of Prairie Wind in marriage. Great was the wrath of Chief Lone Pine that one of an inferior tribe should dare to court his daughter. What was the name of the brave before him? “I am the son of Chief Eagle Wing, of the Muskoka tribe,” answered "White Elk, with an inflexion of pride in his voice.

“What?” cried Lone Pine, in tones of thunder. “Hare the son of the tribe that stole from me Laughing Water, ask the hand of her daughter in marriage ?”

“Harken, Great Chief,” cried White Elk. “Many moons ago, my father took me far into the prairie with him and there taught me to conquer pain. In his absence a medicine man ruled the tribe. Great was my fathers sorrow when he returned to find that the squaw of his noble friend had been captured and killed. The medicine man was put to death, and the chief set out to right the wrong. But not until this hour did I know that the tribe for whom we have sought so long and tirelessly was so close.” With an impatient sound, Lone Pine issued orders to some braves to secure the visitor. “Lone Pine has sworn that he will avenge the death of Laughter Water. To-morrow at dawn you mu*t meet your fate.” So saying, he gave a few further orders to his braves, then returned to his tepee. As White Elk was bound and gag** 1 a silent, white-faced maiden ran fro® out of the shadows. She had listens in order to hear her fate, and, instead, had heard the fate of her lover. One short hour before the aa^* 1 Prairie Wind with 'sharp-edged hun ' ing knife sought the prison of "W Elk. With silent strokes she slasn«i open the buck-skin wall. In ai* minutes she was out in the open agam. but this time not alone. With her White Elk. With noiseless *nocassn» they sped down to the beach. But their escape was heard. - sooner had they paddled out mw middle of the lake than the war was launched. The race for love liberty began. When the sun rose of the w'aters, the roar ,'Tv a t was very close. With one last the canoe, only 50yds behind. Elk headed for the falls—and deaui. The canoe, borne by the . a laSt rushed to the brink, paused ma farewell, and then disappeared The death of Laughing V-ato* avenged, but, ah, at what apr : v —Silver rDaphne Dymoc»jg^