The shades of night descended upon the village of Chillicothe, yet the
plumed and painted warriors headed by Ke-ne-ha-ha went not forth upon
their expedition against the whites on the banks of the Ohio.
The red chieftain fumed and chafed like a caged lion. His allies, the
Wyandots and the Mingoes, had sent word that they could not move their
forces for three days, and so, despite his desire for war, he was
compelled to remain inactive.
The wily sachem knew full well that he could accomplish nothing unless
he came down upon his foes in overwhelming numbers.
Ke-ne-ha-ha had faced the deadly fire of the white rifles on many a
bloody field. He had felt the prowess of the hardy bordermen, and had
learned to respect it. No hot-headed boy was he, to rashly dare the
power of the white-skins, without a force far superior to their own.
And so he waited, and while he waited--furious as the angry bear
cheated of his prey--he called down the curses of the Great Spirit upon
the heads of the slow-moving chiefs, his allies.
He paced restlessly up and down the narrow confines of his wigwam.
“The chiefs of the Wyandots and the Mingoes are like turtles; they
should have houses on their backs. A warrior should be like the eagle
or the hawk--swift as the forked light of the Great Spirit. The
white-skins must know that the red-men will soon take the war-path
against them. The great chief, Boone, has long ears. Like a fox he
crept into the Shawnee village; he will carry back to his people the
news that the red warriors are arming for the fight.”
The meditations of the chief were interrupted by the entrance of his
daughter, Le-a-pah.
The features of the chieftain softened as he looked upon the handsome
face of his only child.
“May Le-a-pah speak with her father, the great chief?” asked the girl,
with a timid smile.
“The heart of the father is always open to the words of his child,”
replied the chief, drawing the little form of the girl to him as he
spoke, and smoothing back the dark masses of ebon hair from her low
forehead.
“Will my father be angry if Le-a-pah speaks straight?” and the girl
looked shyly into her father’s face as she spoke.
“Let my daughter speak; the chief will not be angry at his
singing-bird, because her tongue is not forked,” said Ke-ne-ha-ha,
tenderly.
“My father is the great chief of the Shawnee nation; will my father be
angry if his child has looked upon a young brave with loving eyes?”
An earnest look the chief cast into his daughter’s face.
“The singing-bird wishes to leave her father, then?”
“Did not the mother of the singing-bird leave her father when she came
to sing in the lodge of the great chief?” the maiden asked, shyly.
“My daughter speaks straight. It is the course of nature. The leaf
falls from the tree and seeks the embrace of the earth. What is the
name of the chief in whose wigwam Le-a-pah would sing?”
“He is only a young brave,” began the girl, timidly.
“Youth is not a crime,” interrupted the chief; “nor would I give my
child to a brave whose hairs are like the snow in color. Spring should
not sit in the lap of Winter, else her blood will be chilled into
ice--it is bad.”
“The young brave is not yet a great warrior, but he has a heart as big
as a bear, and no white plume is bound up in his scalp-locks. He will
be a great chief when years come heavy upon his head,” said the girl,
cheered by the encouraging words of the great chief.
“Let my daughter speak his name, and then Ke-ne-ha-ha will know how to
answer,” said the father.
“He is called the White Dog,” and then the girl gazed anxiously into
her father’s face, but the face of the chief was like a face of marble;
not a muscle moved as the name of his daughter’s lover fell upon his
ears. Even the keen womanly instinct of Le-a-pah, now made doubly keen
by the fires of love burning so intensely in her bosom, could not
detect whether her father was pleased or displeased.
“The young warrior that captured the great white fighting-man, Boone?”
said the chief, slowly.
The heart of the girl leaped for joy; she thought the speech of her
father an omen of good.
“Yes,” she replied, joyously, and the warm blood leaped freely into her
cheeks.
“The young brave is very young,” said the chief, gravely. But the heart
of the girl could not be deceived. Her heart had told her that her
father approved of her choice.
“Le-a-pah is young, too,” replied the girl.
“The chief is new on the war-path.”
“Yet, alone he grappled with the great white hunter, and brought him to
the earth. What other red warrior has ever done the like?”
A grim smile crept over the stern features of the chief as he listened
to the unanswerable words of the girl.
“My daughter is as wise as the fox--she speaks for her lover as stoutly
as the she-wolf fights for her young.”
“The great chief is not angry at Le-a-pah because she speaks for the
man she loves?”
“No; it is the blood of Ke-ne-ha-ha running in the veins of Le-a-pah
that bids her speak.”
“My father will then give his consent that the young chief shall claim
Le-a-pah as his own?”
“Ke-ne-ha-ha will then be alone in the world. The Red Arrow, his eldest
joy, lies beneath the big oaks that sway their leafy branches in the
woods of the Scioto valley. It is the will of the Great Spirit--the
chief will not murmur at it.”
“Then Le-a-pah may go and sing in the lodge of the young warrior, and
make glad his heart?” asked the girl, her heart swelling with joy.
“Yes--on one condition,” replied the chief.
“And what is that?” asked the girl, puzzled.
“The chief must first know. If he accepts the condition and performs
the service asked, then Le-a-pah shall be his wife, and Ke-ne-ha-ha
will himself give her into his hands.”
The look of joy upon the face of the girl amply repaid the father for
his kindly words.
“Ke-ne-ha-ha too is growing old. In years to come he will be too old
to lead the Shawnee warriors to battle. His feet will be feeble upon
the war-path and his sight will be dim. The Shawnees will select a new
chief to lead them. Who so fit as the son-in-law of their old sachem,
if Ke-ne-ha-ha lifts up his voice in his favor?”
The heart of the girl beat high with pride as she listened to the words
of her father and thought of the future that looked so bright before
her.
“Le-a-pah can not speak as she would, for her heart is too full.”
“Let my daughter send the young chief to me. Ke-ne-ha-ha will tell him
of the service that he must attempt in order to win the flower of the
Shawnee tribe.”
“It is a service of danger?” and a look of anxious fear swept over her
dark face.
“If the flower is not worth the winning, no chieftain’s hand shall ever
pluck it from the parent stem,” replied the father.
“The young brave will face a thousand deaths, Le-a-pah will pledge her
life for it,” said the girl, promptly, and then she left the wigwam.
In a few minutes the young warrior who aspired to the hand of the great
chieftain’s daughter stood within the lodge of the great chief.
Ke-ne-ha-ha cast a searching glance into the frank and open face of the
young Indian. Therein he saw written both courage and skill.
“The young brave would have the daughter of Ke-ne-ha-ha to sing in his
wigwam?”
“The chief speaks straight,” replied the young warrior, firmly.
“The love of a pure girl is priceless; no treasure like it on the
earth; it is the greatest blessing that Manitou ever gave to his red
children. What will the young warrior give or do to win the singing
bird?”
“He will give his life for Le-a-pah; do all possible things. Let the
chief speak--tell of the service that he wishes the young warrior to
do,” said the Shawnee, promptly.
For a moment Ke-ne-ha-ha looked into the face of the young brave as
though pondering upon the words that he was about to speak.
The warrior waited anxiously, impatient to know of the deed that he
must do to win the girl that he loved so fondly.
“The chief has heard of the Wolf Demon?” asked Ke-ne-ha-ha.
“Yes,” replied the warrior, and a look of dread crept over his face as
he heard the name of the terrible scourge of the Shawnee nation.
“The paws of the Wolf Demon are red with the blood of my people. Many
Shawnee warriors have fallen by the tomahawk of this terrible being. On
their breasts he cuts his totem--a Red Arrow. Does the chief know why
the totem of the Demon is a Red Arrow?”
“No,” the warrior replied.
“The Red Arrow was the eldest daughter of Ke-ne-ha-ha--the sister
of Le-a-pah. She left her tribe to dwell in the wigwam of a white
stranger. Ke-ne-ha-ha followed and struck to the death the false girl
who forsook her tribe. He killed also the white skin. The dead white
was eaten up by a wolf, but the soul of the white-skin lived. It eat
up the soul of the animal, and the beast became the Wolf Demon--a
wolf with a human soul. The Wolf Demon can be killed. Ke-ne-ha-ha has
grappled with him. He did not clutch air but substance. The human wolf
can be struck to the death if the blow be given rightly.”
The words of the great chief opened the eyes of the young brave. He
guessed what the service was that the Shawnee chieftain wished at his
hands.
“Let the great chief speak of the deed that must be done to win the
hand of Le-a-pah.”
“The human wolf can be killed--”
“Yes.”
“Let my young brave try to kill the Wolf Demon. If he draws one drop of
blood from the scourge of the Shawnees, he shall have the daughter of
Ke-ne-ha-ha.”
A look of fierce determination settled upon the face of the young
warrior.
“The Shawnee warrior accepts the offer,” he said, firmly. “He will seek
for the Wolf Demon in the wood. He will search for him as the panther
searches for the red chief that steals its cub. If mortal hands can
take the life of the Shawnee terror, then he shall fall by the knife of
the White Dog.”
“It is good!” cried Ke-ne-ha-ha, and a look of satisfaction came over
his face. “Let the young warrior perform the service and the great
chief of the Shawnee nation will give him his child.”
“The White Dog will seek the Wolf Demon at once.”
Then the warrior turned upon his heel and left the wigwam.