The summers passed and Hanging-flower became a maiden. Her eyes were
large, black and deep, and her hair which she wore in two large
braids, fell heavily from her shoulders. As she passed along the
road, some boys looked intently at her while others turned their eyes
away and hurried their steps. But, one and all, she passed them by.
Hanging-flower had become a great dancer, and many a flattering comment
was heard among the older men and women as they watched her dance with
the others at the Strawberry and Raspberry Festivals.
V
At the next berrying season Hanging-flower joined a group of young men
and girls and together they went off to the woods. Old Ringing-voice,
the great story-teller, was with them.
Every night, when the day’s work was done and the boys and girls
returned to camp with their baskets heaped full of red, juicy
berries, they would all sit around the fire, while Quick-of-hand and
She-works-in-the-house, who were reputed for their skill in cooking,
prepared a delicious soup of corn meal, after which, berries in great
quantities were eaten. Then Ringing-voice would light his pipe and
leaning his back against a tree stump, the legs drawn up so that the
knees almost touched his chin, he would begin to talk, in slow and
measured phrases. It is here that Hanging-flower first learned of
the language of the animals and of the great warrior who had been so
kind to the beasts and birds of the woods and the fields, and who was
brought to life by their efforts after he had succumbed to the arrows
of the Sioux. She learned of the great medicine, ga’-nṑ-da, which
the animals made of parts of their own bodies and gave to the warrior
to be used as a cure for all sickness. She was thrilled as she listened
to the story of Pale-face, the pure youth, who started out alone and,
wandering through the woods, met the pygmies and learned from them the
Pygmy or Dark Dance, which, her mother had told her, she would herself
one day perform. And for many evenings in succession, the boys and
girls were spellbound as Ringing-voice recounted the great story of the
foundation of the League, of Deganawīda and Hayenhwáhtha, the great
chiefs, who organized the League and prescribed the Law and established
the Great Peace.
One night, as they were sitting around the fire, and Ringing-voice
was absorbed in his tale, Hanging-flower suddenly became aware
that some one was looking at her. She turned her head and saw
Straight-as-an-arrow, the tall, slim youth, who was staring at her with
large wondering eyes. She looked away, and not once during the long
evening did she turn her head again.
Evening after evening, while listening to the stories, Hanging-flower
felt his gaze fixed upon her. She never turned, she was afraid even to
move, but she knew that his eyes were fixed upon her.
One night, when the moon was not shining and all was quiet in the camp,
he came upon her like the wind. Seized with terror, Hanging-flower
wanted to scream. Her lips parted, but no sound came; her heart was
beating fast and she lay there in the wet grass, hot and trembling.
When next spring came a baby was born to Hanging-flower. It made no
sound when it came, for it was dead. On the evening of that day, two
forms, wrapped in blankets, slipped out of the bark house; one was
carrying a small bundle in her arms. Quietly as shadows they glided
along the road, until they reached the cemetery of the Bear clan. And
there the two women buried the little, nameless thing that had come
unasked for and unwelcome. No one had seen them, no one knew; and after
a while, Hanging-flower herself forgot what had happened.