But she could not resist the temptation of whispering to Sacred Wind her knowledge of the true reason why she would not marry the Bear.  This was the first blow, and it struck to the heart; it made a wound which was long kept open by the watchful eye of jealousy.

The grandmother, however, did not hear the remark; if she had she would not have sat still smoking—­not she! she would have trembled with rage that a Dahcotah maiden, and her grandchild, should be guilty of the enormous crime of loving a cousin.  An eruption of Vesuvius would have given but a faint idea of her fury.

Most fortunately for herself, the venerable old medicine woman died a few days after.  Had she lived to know of the fatal passion of her granddaughter, she would have longed to seize the thunderbolts of Jupiter (if she had been aware of their existence) to hurl at the offenders; or like Niobe, have wept herself to stone.

Indeed the cause of her death showed that she could not bear contradiction.

There was a war party formed to attack the Chippeways, and the “Eagle that Screams as she Flies,” (for that was the name of Sacred Wind’s grandmother) wanted to go along.

She wished to mutilate the bodies after they were scalped.  Yes, though near ninety years old, she would go through all the fatigues of a march of three hundred miles, and think it nothing, if she could be repaid by tearing the heart from one Chippeway child.

There were, however, two old squaws who had applied first, and the Screaming Eagle was rejected.

There were no bounds to her passion.  She attempted to hang herself and was cut down; she made the village resound with her lamentations; she called upon all the spirits of the lakes, rivers, and prairies, to torment the war party; nothing would pacify her.  Two days after the war party left, the Eagle that Screams as she Flies expired, in a fit of rage!

When the war-party returned, the Shield was the observed of all observers; he had taken two scalps.

Sacred Wind sighed to think he was her cousin.  How could she help loving the warrior who had returned the bravest in the battle?

The Swan saw that she loved in vain.  She knew that she loved the Shield more in absence; why then hope that he would forget Sacred Wind when he saw her no more?

When she saw him enter the village, her heart beat fast with emotion; she pressed her hand upon it, but could not still its tumult.  “He has come,” she said to herself, “but will his eye seek mine? will he tell me that the time has been long since he saw me woman he loved?”

She follows his footsteps—­she watches his every glance, as he meets his relations.  Alas! for the Swan, the wounded bird feels not so acutely the arrow that pierces, as she that look of recognition between the cousins!

But the unhappy girl was roused from a sense of her griefs, to a recollection of her wrongs.  With all the impetuosity of a loving heart, she thought she had a right to the affections of the Shield.  As the water reflected her features, so should his heart give back the devoted love of hers.