okah could have
thrice counted over the fingers of her hand.

When this was done, the chief of the little spirits called Karkapaha
before him, and said--

"Maha, you have the heart of a doe. You would fly from a roused wren.
We have not spared you because you deserve to be spared, but because
the maiden loves you. It is for this purpose that we will give you the
heart of a man, that you may return to the village of the Mahas, and
find favour in the eyes of Mahtoree and the braves of the nation. We
will take away your cowardly spirit, and will give you the spirit of
the warrior whom we slew, whose heart was firm as a rock. Sleep, man
of little soul, and wake to be better worthy the love of the beautiful
Antelope."

Then a deep sleep came over the Maha lover. How long he slept he knew
not, but when he woke he felt at once that a change had taken place in
his feelings and temper. The first thought that came to his mind was
of a bow and arrow, the second was of the beautiful maiden who lay
sleeping at his side. The little spirits had disappeared--not a
solitary being of the many thousands who, but a few minutes before,
had filled the air with their discordant cries was now to be seen or
heard. At the feet of Karkapaha lay a tremendous bow, larger than any
warrior ever yet used, a sheaf of arrows of proportionate size, and a
spear of a weight which no Maha could wield. Karkapaha drew the bow as
an Indian boy bends a willow twig, and the spear seemed in his hand
but a reed or a feather. The shrill war-whoop burst unconsciously from
his lips, and his nostrils seemed dilated with the fire and impatience
of a newly-awakened courage. The heart of the fond Indian girl
dissolved in tears when she saw these proofs of strength and these
evidences of spirit which, she knew, if they were coupled with
valour--and how could she doubt the completeness of the gift to effect
the purposes of the giver?--would thaw the iced feelings of her father
and tune his heart to the song of forgiveness. Yet it was not without
many fears, tears, and misgivings on the part of the maiden that they
began their journey to the Mahas village. The lover, now a stranger to
fear, used his endeavours to quiet the beautiful Tatokah, and in some
measure succeeded. Upon finding that his daughter and her lover had
gone to the Hill of the Spirits, and that Shongotongo did not return
from his perilous adventure, the chief of the Mahas had recalled his
braves from th