A look of grave contempt settled on the youth's visage as he replied--

"When love is strong, the eyes are blind and the ears too open.

Brighteyes hears voices in the night air."

Having given utterance to this sage opinion with the sententious

solemnity of an oracle, or the portentous gravity of "an ass"--as modern

slang might put it--the youth resumed his pipe and continued the

stupefaction of his brain.

The woman was not sorry that her visitor took the matter thus, for she

had felt the imprudence of having betrayed any symptom of surprise,

whatever the sound might be. When, therefore, another whisper of

"Mother!" was heard, instead of looking intelligent, she bestowed some

increased attention on her work, yawned sleepily once or twice, and then

said--

"Is there not a council being held to-night?"

"There is. The warriors are speaking now."

"Does not the young brave aspire to raising his voice in council?"

"He does," replied the youth, puffing with a look of almost superhuman

dignity, "but he may not raise his voice in council till he has been on

the war-path."

"I should have thought," returned Brighteyes, with the slightest

possible raising of her eyebrows, "that a brave who aims so high would

find it more pleasant to be near the council tent talking with the other

young braves than to sit smoking beside a squaw."

The youth took the hint rather indignantly, rose, and strode out of the

tent in majestic silence.

No sooner was he gone than Moonlight darted in and fell into her mothers

arms. There was certainly more of the pale-face than of the red man's

spirit in the embrace that followed, but the spirit of the red man soon

reasserted itself.

"Mother," she said eagerly and impressively, "Rushing River is going to

be my husband!"

"Child," exclaimed the matron, while her countenance fell, "can the dove

mate with the raven? the rabbit with the wolf?"

"They can, for all I care or know to the contrary," said Moonlight--

impelled, no doubt, by the spirit of Little Tim. "But" she continued

quickly, "I bear a message to Bounding Bull. Where is he?"

"Not in the camp, my daughter. He has gone to the block-house to see

the preacher."

"And father. Is he here?"

"No, he has gone with Bounding Bull. There is no chief in the camp just

now--only the young braves to guard it."

"How well they guard it--when I am here!" said the girl, with a laugh;

then, becoming intensely earnest, she told her mother in as few words as

possible the object of her visit, concluding with the very pertinent

question, "Now, what is to be done?"

"You dare not allow Rushing River to enter the camp just now," said

Brighteyes. "The young men would certainly kill him."

"But I must not send him away," returned the perplexed Moonlight. "If I

do, I--I shall never--he will never more return."

"Could you not creep out of camp as you crept in and warn him?"

"I could, as far as the sentinels are concerned, for they are little

better than owls; but it is growing lighter now, and the moon will be up

soon--I dare not risk it. If I were caught, would not the braves

suspect something, and scour the country round? I know not what to do,

yet something _must_ be done at once."

For some minutes the mother and daughter were silent, each striving to

devise some method of escaping from their difficulty. At last

Brighteyes spoke.

"I see a way, my child," she said, with more than her wonted solemnity,

even when discussing grave matters. "It is full of danger, yet you must

take it, for I see that love has taken possession of my Moonlight's

heart, and--there is no withstanding love!"

The Prairie Chief · 第 35 / 41 题