THE RITE OF THE HIDDEN CHILDREN
My Indians and I stood watching our riflemen as they swung to the east
and trotted out of sight among the trees. Then, at a curt nod from me,
the Indians lengthened their line, extending it westward along the
height of land, and so spreading out that they entirely commanded the
only outlet to the swamp below, by encircling both the trail and the
headwaters of the evil-looking little stream.
Through the unbroken thatch of matted foliage overhead no faintest ray
of sunlight filtered--not even where the stream coiled its slimy way
among the tamaracks and spruces. But south of us, along the ascending
trail by which we had come, the westering sun glowed red across a ledge
of rock, from which the hill fell sheer away, plunging into profound
green depths, where unseen waters flowed southward to the Susquehanna.
Around the massive elbow of this ledge, our back-trail, ascending into
view, curved under shouldering boulders. Blueberry scrub, already
turning gold and crimson, grew sparsely on the crag--cover enough for
any watcher of the trail. And thither I crept and stretched me out flat
in the bushes, where I could see the trail we had lately traversed, and
look along it far to our rear as clearly as one sees through a dim and
pillared corridor.
West of me, a purplish ridge ran north, the sun shining low through a
pine-clad notch. Southwest of me, little blue peaks pricked the
primrose sky; south-east lay endless forests, their green already
veiled in an ashy blue bloom. Far down, under me, wound the narrow
back-trail through the gulf below.
Presently, beside me came creeping the lithe Mohican, and lay down
prone, smooth and golden, and shining like a sleek panther in the sun.
"Is all well guarded, brother?" I whispered.
"Not even a wood-mouse could creep from the swamp unless our warriors
see it."
"And when dark comes?"
"Our ears must be our eyes, Loskiel.... But neither the Cat-People nor
the Andastes will venture out of that morass, save only by the trail.
And we shall have two watchers on it through the night."
"There is no other outlet?"
"None, except by the ridge Boyd travels. He blocks that pass with his
twenty men."
"Then we should have their egress blocked, except only in the north?"
"Yes--unless they learn of this by magic," muttered the Mohican.
It was utterly useless for me to decry or ridicule his superstitions;
and there was but one way to combat them.
"If witchcraft there truly be in Catharines-town," said I, "it is bad
magic, and therefore weak; and can avail nothing against true
priesthood. What could the degraded acolytes of this Red Priest do
against a consecrated Sagamore of the Lenape--against an ensign of the
Enchanted Clan? Else why do you wear your crest--or the great Ghost
Bear there rearing upon your breast?"
"It is true," he murmured uneasily. "What spell can Amochol lay upon
us? What magic can he make to escape us? For the trail from
Catharines-town is stopped by a Siwanois Sagamore and a Mohican
warrior! It is closed by an Oneida Sachem who stand watching. When the
Ghost Bear and the Were-Wolf watch, then the whole forest watches with
them--Loup, Blue Wolf, and Bear. Where, then, can the Forest Cats slink
out? Where can the filthy Carcajou escape?"
"Mayaro has spoken. It is a holy barrier that locks and bolts this door
of secret evils. Under Tharon shall this trap remain inviolate till the
last sorcerer be taken in it, the last demon be dead!"
* "Yo-ya-ne-re!" he said, deliberately employing the Canienga
expression with a fierce scorn that, for a moment, made his noble
features terrible. Then he spat as though to wash from his mouth the
taste of the hated language that had soiled it, even when used in
contempt and derision; and he said in the suave tongue of his own
people: "Pray to your white God, Holder of Heaven, Master of Life and
Death, that into our hands be delivered these scoffers who mock at Him
and at Tharon--these Cat-murderers of little children, these pollutors
of the Three Fires. And in the morning I shall arise and look into the
rising sun, and ask the same of the far god who made of me a Mohican, a
Siwanois, and a Sagamore. Let these things be done, brother, ere our
hatchets redden in the flames of Catharines-town. For," he added,
naively, "it is well that God should know what we are about, lest He
misunderstand our purpose."
[* "It is well!"]
I assented gravely.
The sun hung level, now, sending its blinding light straight into our
eyes; and for precaution's sake we edged away under the blue shadows of
the shrubbery, in case some far prowler note the light spots where our
faces showed against the wall of green behind us.
"How far from Catharines-town," I asked, "lies the Vale Yndaia, of
which our little Lois has spoken?"
"It is the next valley to the westward. A pass runs through and a
little brook. Pleasant it is, Loskiel, with grassy glades and half a
hundred little springs which we call 'Eyes of the Inland Seas.'"
"You know," I said, "that in this valley all the hopes of Lois de
Contrecoeur are centred."
"I know, Loskiel," he answered gravely.
"Do you believe her mother lives there still?"
"How shall I know, brother? If it were with these depraved and
perverted Senecas as it is with other nations, the mother of a Hidden
Child had lived there unmolested. Her lodge would have remained her
sanctuary; her person had been respected; her Hidden One undisturbed
down to this very hour. But see how the accursed Senecas have dealt
with her, so that to save her child from Amochol she sent it far beyond
the borders of the Long House itself! What shame upon the Iroquois that
the Senecas have defiled their purest law! May Leshi seize them all! So
how, then, shall I know whether this white captive mother lives in the
Vale Yndaia still--or if she lives at all? Or if they have not made of
her a priestess--a sorceress--perhaps The Dreaming Prophetess of the
Onon-hou-aroria!--by reason of her throat being white!"
"What!" I exclaimed, startled.
"Did not the Erie boast a Prophetess to confound us all?"
"I did not comprehend."
"Did he not squat, squalling at us from his cave, deriding every secret
plan we entertained, and boasting that the Senecas had now a prophetess
who could reveal to them everything their white enemies were
plotting--because her own throat was white?"
I looked at him in silent horror.
"Hai-ee!" he said grimly. "If she still lives at all it is because she
dreams for Amochol. And this, Loskiel, has long remained my opinion.
Else they had slain her on their altars long ago--strangled her as soon
as ever she sent her child beyond their reach. For what she did broke
sanctuary. According to the code of the Long House, the child belonged
to the nation in which the mother was a captive. And by the mother's
act this child was dedicated to a stainless marriage with some other
child who also had been hidden. But the Red Sorcerer has perverted this
ancient law; and when he would have taken the child to sacrifice it,
then did the mother break the law of sanctuary and send her child away,
knowing, perhaps, that the punishment for this is death.
"So you ask me whether or not she still lives. And I say to you that I
do not know; only I judge by the boasting of that vile Erie Cat that
she has bought her life of them by dreaming for their Red Priest. And
if she has done this thing, and has deceived them until this day, then
it is very plain to me that they believe her to be a witch. For it is
true, Loskiel, that those who dream wield heavy influences among all
Indians--and among the Iroquois in particular. Yet, with all this, I
doubt not that, if she truly be alive, her life hangs by a single
thread, ever menaced by the bloody knife of Amochol."
"I can not understand," said I, "why she sent out no appeal during her
long captivity. Before this war broke, had her messengers to Lois gone
to Sir William Johnson, or to Guy Johnson, with word that the Senecas
held in their country a white woman captive, she had been released
within a fortnight, I warrant you!"
"Loskiel, had that appeal gone out, and a belt been sent to
Catharines-town from Johnstown or Guy Park, the Senecas would have
killed her instantly and endured the consequences--even though Amherst
himself was thundering on their Western Gate."
"Are you sure, Mayaro?"
"Certain, Loskiel. She could not have lived a single moment after the
Senecas learned that she had sent out word of her captivity. That is
their law, which even Amochol could not break."
"It was a mercy that our little Lois appealed not to His Excellency, so
that the word ran through Canada by flag to Haldimand."
"She might have done this," said the Sagamore quietly. "She asked me at
Poundridge how this might be accomplished. But when I made it clear to
her that it meant her mother's death, she said no more about it."
"But pushed on blindly by herself," I exclaimed, "braving the sombre
Northland forests with her little ragged feet--half naked, hungry,
friendless, and alone, facing each terror calmly, possessed only of her
single purpose! O Sagamore of a warrior clan that makes a history of
brave deeds done, can you read in the records of your most ancient
wampum a braver history than this?"
He said: "Let what this maid has done be written in the archives of the
white men, where are gathered the records of brave but unwise deeds. So
shall those who come after you know how to praise and where to pity our
little rosy pigeon of the forest. No rash young warrior of my own
people, bound to the stake itself can boast of greater bravery than
this. And you, blood-brother to a Siwanois, shall witness what I say."
After a silence I said: "They must have passed Wyoming already. At this
hour our little Lois may be secure under the guns of Easton. Do you not
think so, Mayaro?"
As he made no answer, I glanced around at him and found him staring
fixedly at the trail below us.
"What do you see on our back-trail?" I whispered.
"A man, Loskiel--if it be not a deer."
A moment and I also saw something moving far below us among the trees.
As yet it was only a mere spot in the dim light of the trail, slowly
ascending the height of land. Nearer, nearer it came, until at length
we could see that it was a man. But no rifle slanted across his
shoulder.
"He must be one of our own people," I said, puzzled. "Somebody sends us
a messenger. Is he white or Indian?"
"White," said the Sagamore briefly, his eyes still riveted on the
approaching figure, which now I could see was clothed in deerskin shirt
and leggins.
"He carries neither pack nor rifle; only a knife and pouch. He is a
wood-running fool!" I said, disgusted. "Why do they send us such a
forest-running battman, when they have Oneidas at headquarters, and
Coureurs-de-Bois to spare who understand their business?"
"I make nothing of him," murmured the Mohican, his eyes fairly
glittering with excitement and perplexity.
"Is he, perhaps, some fugitive from Butler's rangers?" I whispered,
utterly at a loss to account for such a silly spectacle. "The pitiful
idiot! Did you ever gaze upon the like, Mayaro--unless he be some
French mission priest. Otherwise, yonder walks the greatest of God's
fools!"
"Then he is easily taken," muttered Mayaro. "Fix thy flint, Loskiel,
and prime. Here is a business I do not understand."
Once the man halted and looked up at our ledge of rock, where the last
sun rays still lingered, then lightly continued the ascent. And I,
turning to the Mohican for some possible explanation of this amazing
sight, ere we crept out to closer ambush, found Mayaro staring through
the trees with a glassy and singular expression which changed swiftly
to astonishment, and then to utter blankness.
"Etho!" he exclaimed, bluntly, springing to his feet behind the nearer
trees, regardless whether or not the stranger saw him. "Go forward now,
Loskiel. This is a fool's business--and badly begun. Now, let a white
man's wisdom finish it."
I, too, had risen in surprise, stepping backward also, in order that
the trees might screen me. And at the same moment the stranger rounded
the jutting shoulder of our crag, and came suddenly face to face with
me in midtrail.
"Euan!"
So astounded was I that my rifle fell clattering from my nerveless hand
as she sprang forward and caught my shoulders with both her hands. And
I saw her grey eyes filling and her lips quivering with words she could
not utter.
"Lois!" I repeated, as though stupefied. "Lois!"
"Oh, Euan! Euan! I thought I would never, never come up with you!" she
whimpered. "I left the batteau where it touched at Towanda Creek, and
hid in the woods and dressed me in the Oneida dress you gave me. Then,
by the first batt-man who passed, I sent a message to Lana saying that
I was going back to--to join you. Are you displeased?"
Her trembling hands clasped my shoulders tighter, and her face drew
closer, so that her sweet, excited breath fell on my cheek.
"Listen!" she stammered. "I desire to tell you everything! I will tell
you all, Euan! I ran back along the trail, meeting the boat-guard,
batt-men, and the sick horses all along the way to Tioga, where they
took me over on a raft of logs.... I paid them three hard shillings.
Then Colonel Shreve heard of what I had been about, and sent a soldier
after me, but I avoided the fort, Euan, and went boldly up through the
deserted camps until I came to where the army had crossed. Some
teamsters mending transport wagons gave me bread and meat enough to
fill my pouch; and one of them, a kindly giant, took me over the
Chemung dry shod, I clinging to his broad back like a very cat--and all
o' them a-laughing fit to burst!... Are you displeased, dear lad?...
Then, just at night, I came up with the rear-guard, where they were
searching for strayed cattle; and I stowed myself away in a broken-down
wagon, full of powder--quietly, like a mouse, no one dreaming that I
was not the slender youth I looked. So none molested me where I lay
amid the powder casks and sacking."
She smiled wistfully, and stood caressing my arms with her eager little
hands, as though to calm the wrath to come.
"I heard your regiment's pretty conch-horn in the morning," she said,
"and slipped out of my wagon and edged forward amid all that swearing,
sweating confusion, noticed not at all by anybody, save when a red-head
Jersey sergeant bawled at me to man a rope and haul at the mired cannon
with the others. But I was deaf just then, Euan, and got free o' them
with nothing worse than a sound cursing from the sergeant; and away
across the creek I legged it, where I hid in the bush until the firing
began and the horrid shouting on the ridge. Then it was that, badly
scared, I crept through the Indian grass like a hunted hare, and saw
Lieutenant Boyd there, and his men, halted across the trail. And very
soon our cannon began, and then it was that I saw you and your Indians
filing out to the right. So I followed you. Oh, Euan, are you very
angry? Because, dear lad, I have had so lonely a trail, what with
keeping clear of your party so that you might not catch me and send me
back, and what with losing you after you had left the main, trodden
trail! Save for the marks you left on trees, I had been utterly
lost--and must have perished, no doubt----" She looked at me with
melting eyes.
"Think on that, Euan, ere you grow too angry and are cruel with me."
"Cruel? Lois, you have been more heartless than I ever----"
"There! I knew it! Your anger is about to burst its dreadful bounds----"
"Child! What is there to say or do now? What is there left for me, save
to offer you what scant protection I may--good God!--and take you
forward with us in the morning? This is a cruel, unmerited perplexity
you have caused me, Lois. What unkind inspiration prompted you to do
this rash, mad, foolish thing! How could you so conduct? What can you
hope to accomplish in all this wicked and bloody business that now
confronts us? How can I do my duty--how perform it to the letter--with
you beside me--with my very heart chilling to water at thought of your
peril----"
"Hush, dearest lad," she whispered, tightening her fingers on my
sleeve. "All in the world I care for lies in this place where we now
stand--or near it. Have I not told you that I must go to
Catharines-town? How could I remain behind when every tie I have in all
the world was tugging at my heart to draw me hither? You ask me what I
can do--what I can hope to accomplish. God knows--but my mother and my
lover are here--and how could I stay away if there was a humble chance
that I might do some little thing to aid her--to aid you, Euan?
"Why do you scowl at me? Try me, Test me. I am tough as an Indian
youth, strong and straight and supple--and as tireless. See--I am not
wearied with the trail! I am not afraid. I can do what you do. If you
fast I can fast, too; when you go thirsty I can endure it also; and you
may not even hope to out-travel me, Euan, for I am innured to
sleeplessness, to hunger, to fatigue, by two years'
vagabondage--hardened of limb and firm of body, self-taught in
self-denial, in quiet endurance, in stealth, and patience. Oh, Euan!
Make me your comrade, as you would take a younger brother, to school
him in the hardy ways of life you know so well! I will be no burden to
you; I will serve you humbly and faithfully; prove docile, obedient,
and grateful to the end. And if the end comes in the guise of
death--Euan--Euan! Why may I not share that also with you? For the
world's joy dies when you die, and my body might as well die with it!"
So eager and earnest her argument, so tightly she clung to my arms, so
pleading and sweet her ardent face, upturned, with the tears scarcely
dry under her lashes, that I found nought to answer her, and could only
look into her eyes--deep, deep into those grey-blue wells of
truth--troubled to silence by her present plight and mine.
I could not take her back now, and also keep my tryst with Boyd at
Catharines-town. I could not leave her here by this trail, even
guarded--had I the guards to spare--for soon in our wake would come
thundering the maddened debris of the Chemung battle, pell-mell,
headlong through the forests, desperate, with terror leading and fury
lashing at their heels.
I laid my hands heavily upon her firm, young shoulders, and strove to
think the while I studied her; but the enchantment of her confused my
mind, and I saw only the crisp and clustering curls, and clear, young
eyes looking into mine, and the lips scarce parted, hanging breathless
on my words.
"O boy-girl comrade!" I said in a low, unsteady voice. "Little boy-girl
born to do endless mischief in this wide and wind-swept forest world of
men! What am I to say to you, who have your will of everyone beneath
the sun? Who am I to halt the Starry Dancers, or bar your wayward trail
when Tharon himself has hidden you, and the Little People carry to you
'winged moccasins for flying feet as light and swift!' For truly I
begin to think it has been long since woven in the silvery and eternal
wampum--belt after belt, string twisted around string--that you shall
go to Catharines-town unscathed.
"Where she was born returns the rosy Forest Pigeon to her native tree
for mating. White-Throat--White-Throat--your course is flown! For this
is Amochol's frontier; and by tomorrow night we enter
Catharines-town--thou and I, little Lois--two Hidden Children--one
hidden by the Western Gate, one by the Eastern Gate's dark threshold,
'hidden in the husks.'...How shall it be with us now, O little rosy
spirit of the home-wood? My Indians will ask. What shall I say to them
concerning you?"
"All laws break of themselves before us twain, who, having been hidden,
are prepared for mating--where we will--and when.... And if the long
flight be truly ended--and the home forests guard our secret--and if
Tharon be God also--and His stars the altar lights--and his river-mist
my veil----" She faltered, and her clear gaze became confused. "Why
should your Indians question you?" she asked.
The last ray of the sun reddened the forest, lingered, faded, and went
out in ashes. I said:
"God and Tharon are one. Priest and Sagamore, clergyman and Sachem,
minister, ensign, Roya-neh--red men or white, all are consecrated
before the Master of Life. If in these Indians' eyes you are still to
remain sacred, then must you promise yourself to me, little Lois. And
let the Sagamore perform the rite at once."
"Betroth myself, Euan?"
"Yes, under the Rite of the Hidden Children. Will you do this--so that
my Indians can lay your hands upon their hearts? Else they may turn
from you now--perhaps prove hostile."
"I had desired to have you take me from my mother's arms."
"And so I will, in marriage--if she be alive to give you."
"Then--what is this we do?"
"It is our White Bridal."
"Summon the Sagamore," she said faintly.
And so it was done there, I prompting her with her responses, and the
mysterious rite witnessed by the priesthood of two nations--Sachem and
Sagamore, Iroquois and Algonquin, with the tall lodge-poles of the
pines confirming it, and the pale ghost-flowers on the moss fulfilling
it, and the stars coming one by one to nail our lodge door with silver
nails, and the night winds, enchanted, chanting the Karenna of the
Uncut Corn.
And now the final and most sacred symbol of betrothal was at hand; and
the Oneida Sachem drew away, and the Yellow Moth and the Night Hawk
stood aside, with heads quietly averted, leaving the Sagamore alone
before us. For only a Sagamore of the Enchanted Clan might stand as
witness to the mystery, where now the awful, viewless form of Tharon
was supposed to stand, white winged and plumed, and robed like the
Eight Thunders in snowy white.
"Listen, Loskiel," he said, "my younger brother, blood-brother to a
Siwanois. Listen, also, O Rosy-Throated Pigeon of the Woods--home from
the unseen flight to mate at last!"
He plucked four ghost-flowers, and cast the pale blossoms one by one to
the four great winds.
"O untainted winds that blow the Indian corn," he said, "winds of the
wilderness, winds of the sounding skies--clean and pure as ye are, not
one of you has blown the green and silken blankets loose from these,
our Hidden Children, nestling unseen, untouched, unstained, close
cradled in a green embrace. Nor wind, nor rain, nor hail, not the
fierce heat of many summers have revealed these Hidden Ones, stripped
them of the folded verdure that conceals them still, each wrapped
within the green leaves of the corn.
"Continue to listen, winds of the sounding skies. Let the Eight
White-plumed Thunders listen. An ensign of the Magic Clan bears witness
under Tharon. A Sagamore veils his face. Let Tharon hear these children
when they speak. Let Tamenund listen!"
Standing straight and tall there in the starlight, he drew his blanket
across his eyes. The Oneidas and the Stockbridge did the same.
Slowly, timidly, in compliance with my whispered bidding, the slender,
trembling hands of Lois unlaced my throat-points to the shoulder,
baring my chest. Then she said aloud, but in a voice scarce audible, I
prompting every word:
"It is true! Under the folded leaves a Hidden Youth is sleeping. I bid
him sleep awhile. I promise to disturb no leaf. This is the White
Bridal. I close what I have scarcely parted. I bid him sleep this
night. When--when----"
I whispered, prompting her, and she found her voice, continuing:
"When at his lodge door they shall come softly and lay shadows to bar
it, a moon to seal it, and many stars to nail it fast, then, in the
dark within, I shall hear the painted quiver rattle as he puts it off;
and the antlers fall clashing to the ground. Only the green and tender
cloak of innocence shall endure--a little while--then, falling, enfold
us twain embraced where only one had slept before. A promised bride has
spoken."
She bowed her head, took my hands in hers, laid them lightly on her
heart; then straightened up, with a long-drawn, quivering breath, and
stood, eyes closed, as I unlaced her throat-points, parting the
fawn-skin cape till the soft thrums lay on her snowy shoulders.
"It is true," I whispered. "Under the folded leaves a Hidden Maid lies
sleeping. I bid her sleep awhile; I bid her dream in innocence through
this White Bridal night. I promise to disturb no leaf that sheathes
her. I now refold and close again what I have scarcely touched and
opened. I bid her sleep.
"When on my lodge door they nail the Oneida stars, and seal my door
with the moon of Tharon, and lay long shadows there to bar it; then I,
within the darkness there, shall hear the tender rustle of her clinging
husks, parting to cradle two where one alone had slept since she was
born."
Gently I drew the points, closing the cape around her slender throat,
knotted the laces, smoothed out the thrums, took her small hands and
laid them on my breast.
One by one the stately Indians came to make their homage, bending their
war-crests proudly and placing her hands upon their painted breasts.
Then they went away in silence, each to his proper post, no doubt. Yet,
to be certain, I desired to make my rounds, and bade Lois await me
there. But I had not proceeded three paces when lo! Of a sudden she was
at my side, laughing her soft defiance at me in the darkness.
"No orders do I take save what I give myself," she said. "Which is no
mutiny, Euan, and no insubordination either, seeing that you and I are
one--or are like to be when the brigade chaplain passes--if the Tories
meddle not with his honest scalp! Come! Honest Euan, shall we make our
rounds together? Or must I go alone?"
And she linked her arm in mine and put one foot forward, looking up at
me with all the light mischief of the very boy she seemed in her soft
rifle-dress and leggins, and the bright hair crisply curling 'round her
moleskin cap.
"Have a care of the trees, then, little minx," I said.
"Pooh! Can you not see in the dark?"
"Can you?"
"Surely. When you and I went to the Spring Waiontha, I needed not your
lantern light to guide me."
"I see not well by night," I admitted.
"You do see well by night--through my two eyes! Are we not one? How
often must I repeat it that you and I are one! One! One! O
Loskiel--stealer of hearts, if you could only know how often on my
knees I am before you--how truly I adore, how humbly, scarcely daring
to believe my heart that tells me such a tale of magic and
enchantment--after these barren, loveless years. Mark! Yonder stands
the Grey-Feather! Is that his post?"
"Wonder-eyes, I see him not! Wait--aye, you are right. And he is at his
post. Pass to the left, little minx."
And so we made the rounds, finding every Indian except the Sagamore at
his post. He lay asleep. And after we had returned to our southern
ledge of rock, and I had spread my blanket for her and laid my pack to
pillow her, I picked up my rifle and rose from my knees.
"And you?" she asked.
"I stand guard across the trail below."
"Why? When all except the Siwanois are watching! The Night Hawk is
there. Stretch yourself here beside me and try to sleep. Your watch
will come too soon to suit you, or me either, for that matter."
"Do you mean to go on guard with me?"
"Do you dream that I shall let you stand your guard alone, young sir?"
"This is folly, Lois--"
"Euan, you vex me. Lie beside me. Here is sufficient blanket room and
pillow. And if you do not sleep presently and let me sleep too, our
wits will all be sadly addled when they summon us."
So I stretched myself out beside her and looked up, open eyed, into
darkness.
"Sleep well," she whispered, smothering a little laugh.
"Sleep safely, Lois."
"That is why I desired you--so I might sleep safely, knowing myself
safe when you are, too. And you are safe only when you are at my side.
Do you follow my philosophy?"
I said presently: "This is our White Bridal, Lois. The ceremony
completes itself by dawn."
"Save that the Sagamore is but a heathen priest, truly I feel myself
already wedded to you, so solemn was our pretty rite.... Dare you kiss
me, Euan? You never have. Christians betrothed may kiss each other
once, I think."
"Not such as we--if the rite means anything to us."
"Why?"
"Not on the White Bridal night--if we regard this rite as sacred."
"I feel its sacredness. That is why I thought no sin if you should kiss
me--on such a night."
She sat up in her blanket; and I sat up, too.
* "Tekasenthos," she said.
[* "I am weeping."]
* "Chetena, you are laughing!"
[* "Mouse."]
* "Neah. Tekasenthos!" she insisted.
[* "No, I am weeping."]
"Why?"
"You do not love me," she remarked, kicking off one ankle moccasin.
* "Kenonwea-sasita-ha-wiyo, chetenaha!" I said, laughing.
[* "I love your beautiful foot, little mouse."]
* "Akasita? Katontats. But is that all of me you love?"
[* "My foot? I consent."]
"The other one also."
"The other one also."
* "Neah-wenh-a, O Loskiel. I shall presently slay you and go to sleep."
[* "I thank you."]
There fell a silence, then:
"Do you not know in your heart how it is with me?" I said unsteadily.
She lay down, facing me.
"In my heart I know, beloved above all men! But I am like a child with
you--desiring to please, ardent, confused, unaccustomed. And everything
you say delights me--and all you do--or refrain from doing--thrills me
with content.... It was so true and sweet of you to leave my lips
untouched. I adore you for it--but then I had adored you if you had
kissed me, also. Always, your decision pleasures me."
After a long while I spoke cautiously. She lay asleep, her lips scarce
parted; but in her sleep she seemed to hear my voice, for one arm stole
out in the dark and closed around my neck.
And so we lay until the dark forms gliding from the forest summoned me
to mount my guard, and Lois awoke with a little sigh, sat upright, then
sprang to her feet to face the coming dawn alone with me.