of Indian life. Who had heard the
twanging of Karkapaha's bow in the retreat of the bear, or who had
beheld the war-paint on his cheek or brow? Where were the scalps or
the prisoners that betokened his valour or daring? No song of valiant
exploits had been heard from his lips, for he had none to boast of--if
he had done aught becoming a man, he had done it when none was by. The
beautiful Tatokah, who knew and lamented the deficiencies of her
lover, strove long to conquer her passion without success. At length,
since her father would not agree to her union with her lover, the two
agreed to fly together. The night fixed came, and they left the
village of the Mahas and the lodge of Mahtoree for the wilderness.

Their flight was not unmarked, and when the father was made acquainted
with the disgrace which had befallen him, he called his young men
around him, and bade them pursue the fugitives, promising his daughter
to whomsoever should slay the Karkapaha. Immediately pursuit was made,
and soon a hundred eager youths were on the track of the hapless pair.
With that unerring skill and sagacity in discovering footprints which
mark their race, their steps were tracked, and themselves soon
discovered flying. What was the surprise of the pursuers when they
found that the path taken by the hapless pair would carry them to the
mountain of little spirits, and that they were sufficiently in advance
to reach it before they could be overtaken. None of them durst venture
within the supposed limits, and they halted till the White Crane
should be informed of his daughter and her lover having placed
themselves under the protection of the spirits.

In the meantime the lovers pursued their journey towards the fearful
residence of the little people. Despair lent them courage to perform
an act to which the stoutest Indian resolution had hitherto been
unequal. They determined to tell their tale to the spirits and ask
their protection. They were within a few feet of the hill when, on a
sudden, its brow, on which no object had till now been visible, became
covered with little people, the tallest of whom was not higher than
the knee of the maiden, while many of them--but these were
children--were of lower stature than the squirrel. Their voice was
sharp and quick, like the barking of the prairie dog. A little wing
came out at each shoulder; each had a single eye, which eye was to the
right in the men, and to the left in the women, and their feet