iden, her soft cheek bedewed with
tears, and deep sighs proceeding from her oppressed heart. "When thou
art away, I tremble with terror. When I see not the light of thine
eyes, I am filled with dismay. My mother comes, in her anger, to chide
me, and she does not spare; my stern brother storms like the winter's
tempest; my sire rages and threatens; and then, like the panther that
springs across the path of the lone hunter, comes thy hated rival, to
oppress me with the tale of his love and the boast of his success."

"Nay, thou art dreaming, my beloved," said the young warrior. "If
fancy must sway thee, let thy visions be tinted with the cheerful ray
of hope. There is no peril near thee, and soon will I bear my
beautiful bride to the lands of my nation, and to my pleasant cabin
beside the beautiful river where I first drew my breath."

So saying, he sprung lightly to the shore, and was lost to her sight.
At the moment of his disappearance, a cloud passed over the face of
the bright moon, obscuring her blessed light. The maiden, deeming it
an inauspicious omen, sat down upon the green bank, and, leaning her
head upon her hand, suffered the tears to stream through her slender
fingers. But vain was the presage--idle were her fears. The cloud has
passed away from the face of the pale orb, and lo! there is her lover.
He comes with a joyous step and a laughing eye, as though he had been
successful in his search for the further means of flight. Cheer up,
Mekaia[A]; it is indeed thy Moscharr[B].

[Footnote A: The star flower.]

[Footnote B: The mountain plant.]

"Now haste, my beloved one," said the Mountain Plant. "I have found
the object of my search. Here is a canoe, and soon shall it convey my
Star-flower over the rapid tide. Soon will my little bark shoot over
the noisy current, and I and my beloved be altogether beyond the power
of our pursuers."

So saying, he drew the unreluctant maiden swiftly forward. They gained
the shore, placed themselves in the canoe, and committed it to the
current. With her hand clasped in his, her head resting softly upon
his shoulder, while his arm fondly encircled her slender waist, they
glided down the rapid River of the Mountains. No sail was raised to
catch the breeze; no oar was used to impel them through the water;
yet, ere the maiden had time to breathe, the light canoe was gliding,
rapid as thought, down the mid-waves of the current. Then the maiden
spoke.

"Now say, O Moscharr,