He watched her as she returned to her teepee; sometimes her form was lost in the thick bushes, he could see her again as she made her way along the pebbled sh.o.r.e, and when she had entered her teepee he returned home.

He collected his implements of war and hunting, and, telling his mother he was going on a long journey, he left the village.

CHAPTER V.

The feast given in honor of their medicine was celebrated the next day, and Cloudy Sky was thus relieved of the necessity of wearing mourning for his enemy.

His face was carefully washed of the black paint that disfigured it; his hair, plentifully greased, was braided and ornamented. His leggins were new, and his white blanket was marked according to Indian custom. On it was painted a black hand, that all might know that he had killed his enemy. But for all he did not look either young or handsome, and Harpstenah's young friends were astonished that she witnessed the preparations for her marriage with so much indifference.

But she was unconscious alike of their sympathy and ridicule; her soul was occupied with the reflection that upon her energy depended her future fate. Never did her spirit shrink from its appointed task. Nor was she entirely governed by selfish motives; she believed herself an instrument in the hand of the G.o.ds.

Mechanically she performed her ordinary duties. The wood was cut and the evening meal was, cooked; afterwards she cut down branches of trees, and swept the wigwam. In the evening, the villagers had a.s.sembled on the sh.o.r.es of the lake to enjoy the cool air after the heat of the day.

Hours pa.s.sed away as gossipping and amus.e.m.e.nt engaged them all. At length they entered their teepees to seek rest, and Harpstenah and her mother were the last at the door of their teepee, where a group had been seated on the ground, discussing their own and others' affairs. "No harm can come to you, my daughter, when you are the wife of so great a medicine man. If any one hate you and wish to do you an injury, Cloudy Sky will destroy their power. Has he not lived with the Thunder Birds, did he not learn from them to cure the sick, and to destroy his enemies?

He is a great warrior too."

"I know it, my mother," replied the girl, "but we have sat long in the moonlight, the wind that stirred the waters of the spirit lake is gone.

I must sleep, that I may be ready to dress myself when you call me. My hair must be braided in many braids, and the strings are not yet sewed to my moca.s.sins. You too are tired; let us go in and sleep."

Sleep came to the mother--to the daughter courage and energy. Not in vain had she prayed to Haokah the Giant, to give her power to perform a great deed. a.s.sured that her parents were sleeping heavily, she rose and sought the lodge of the medicine man.

When she reached the teepee, she stopped involuntarily before the door, near which hung, on a pole, the medicine bag of the old man. The medicine known only to the clan had been preserved for ages. Sacred had it ever been from the touch of woman. It was placed there to guard the medicine man from evil, and to bring punishment on those who sought to do him harm. Harpstenah's strength failed her. What was she about to do?

Could she provoke with impunity the anger of the spirits of the dead?

Would not the Great Spirit bring terrible vengeance upon her head. Ready to sink to the earth with terror, the words of the fairy of the waters rea.s.sured her. "Can a Dahcotah woman want courage when she is to be forced to marry a man she hates?"

The tumult within is stilled--the strong beating of her heart has ceased--her hand is upon the handle of her knife, as the moonlight falls upon its glittering blade.

Too glorious a night for so dark a deed! See! they are confronted, the old man and the maiden! The tyrant and his victim; the slave dealer and the n.o.ble soul he had trafficked for!

Pale, but firm with high resolve, the girl looked for one moment at the man she had feared--whose looks had checked her childish mirth, whose anger she had been taught to dread, even to the sacrificing of her heart's best hopes.

Restlessly the old man slept; perchance he saw the piercing eyes that were, fixed upon him, for he muttered of the road to the land of spirits. Listen to him, as he boasts of the warrior's work.

"Many brave men have made this road. The friend of the Thunder Birds was worthy. Strike the woman who would dare a.s.sist a warrior. Strike--"

"Deep in his heart she plunged the ready steel," and she drew it out, the life blood came quickly. She alone heard his dying groan.

She left the teepee--her work was done. It was easy to wash the stains on her knife in the waters of the lake.

When her mother arose, she looked at the pale countenance of her daughter. In vain she sought to understand her muttered words.

Harpstenah, as she tried to sleep, fancied she heard the wild laugh of the water spirits. Clouds had obscured the moon, and distant thunder rolled along the sky; and, roused by the clamorous grief of the many women a.s.sembled in the lodge, she heard from them of the dark tragedy in which she had been the princ.i.p.al actor.

The murderer was not to be found. Red Deer was known to be far away. It only remained to bury Cloudy Sky, with all the honors due to a medicine man.

Harpstenah joined in the weeping of the mourners--the fountains of a Sioux woman's tears are easily unlocked. She threw her blanket upon the dead body.

Many were the rich presents made to the inanimate clay which yesterday influenced those who still trembled lest the spirit of the dead war-chief would haunt them. The richest cloth enrobed his body, and, a short distance from the village, he was placed upon a scaffold.

Food was placed beside him; it would be long before his soul would reach the city of spirits; his strength would fail him, were it not for the refreshment of the tender flesh of the wild deer he had loved to chase, and the cooling waters he had drank on earth, for many, many winters.

But after the death of Cloudy Sky, the heart of Harpstenah grew light.

She joined again in the ball plays on the prairies. It needed no vermilion on her cheek to show the brightness of her eye, for the flush of hope and happiness was there.

The dark deed was forgotten; and when, in the time that the leaves began to fall, they prepared the wild rice for winter's use, Red Deer was at her side.

He was a good hunter, and the parents were old. Red Deer ever kept them supplied with game--and winter found her a wife, and a happy one too; for Red Deer loved her in very truth--and the secret of the death of the medicine man was buried in their hearts.

CHAPTER VI.

Ten years had pa.s.sed away since their marriage, and Red Deer had never brought another wife to his teepee. Harpstenah was without a rival in his affections, if we except the three strong boys who were growing up beside them.

Chaske (the oldest son) could hunt for his mother, and it was well that he could, for his father's strength was gone. Consumption wasted his limbs, and the once powerful arm could not now support his drooping head.

The father and mother had followed Cloudy Sky to the world of spirits; they were both anxious to depart from earth, for age had made them feeble, and the hardships of ninety years made them eager to have their strength renewed, in the country where their ancestors were still in the vigor of early youth. The band at Lake Calhoun were going on a hunt for porcupines; a long hunt, and Harpstenah tried to deter her husband from attempting the journey; but he thought the animating exercise of the chase would be a restorative to his feeble frame, and they set out with the rest.

When the hunters had obtained a large number of those valued animals, the women struck their teepees and prepared for their return.

Harpstenah's lodge alone remained, for in it lay the dying man--by his side his patient wife. The play of the children had ceased--they watched with silent awe the pale face and bright eye of their father--they heard him charge their mother to place food that his soul might be refreshed on its long journey. Not a tear dimmed her eye as she promised all he asked.

"There is one thing, my wife," he said, "which still keeps my spirit on earth. My soul cannot travel the road to the city of spirits--that long road made by the bravest of our warriors--while it remembers the body which it has so long inhabited shall be buried far from its native village. Your words were wise when you told me I had not strength to travel so far, and now my body must lie far from my home--far from the place of my birth--from the village where I have danced the dog feast, and from the sh.o.r.es of the 'spirit lakes' where my father taught me to use my bow and arrow."

"Your body shall lie on the scaffold near your native village," his wife replied. "When I turn from this place, I will take with me my husband; and my young children shall walk by my side. My heart is as brave now as it was when I took the life of the medicine man. The love that gave me courage then, will give me strength now. Fear not for me; my limbs will not be weary, and when the Great Spirit calls me, I will hear his voice, and follow you to the land of spirits, where there will be no more sickness nor trouble."

Many stars shone out that night; they a.s.sisted in the solemn and the sacred watch. The mother looked at the faces of her sleeping sons, and listened to their heavy breathing; they had but started on the journey of life.

She turned to her husband: it was but the wreck of a deserted house, the tenant had departed.

The warrior was already far on his journey; ere this, he had reached the lodge where the freed spirit adorns itself ere entering upon its new abode.

Some days after, Harpstenah entered her native village, bearing a precious burden. Strapped to her back was the body of her husband. By day, she had borne it all the weary way; at night, she had stopped to rest and to weep. Nor did her strength fail her, until she reached her home; then, insensible to sorrow and fatigue, she sunk to the earth.

The women relieved her from the burden, and afterwards helped her to bury her dead.

Many waters could not quench her love, nor could the floods drown it. It was strong as death.

Well might she sit in her lodge and weep! The village where she pa.s.sed her childhood and youth was deserted. Her husband forgotten by all but herself. Her two sons were murdered by the Chippeways, while defending their mother and their young brother.

Well might she weep! and tremble too, for death among the Dahcotahs comes as often by the fire water purchased from the white people, as from the murderous tomahawk and scalping-knife of the Chippeways.

Nor were her fears useless; she never again saw her son, until his body was brought to her, his dark features stiff in death. The death blow was given, too, by the friend who had shamed him from listening to his mother's voice.