or from the death which comes surer and swifter than her
own light footsteps. The hunter's knife is soon upon her, and while
warmth and even life are left, the skin is drawn off.

After the fatigues of the day comes the long and pleasant evening. A
bright fire burned in the wigwam of the chief, and many of the Indians
were smoking around it, but Wenona was sad, and she took but little part
in the laughter and merriment of the others.

Red Cloud boasted of his bravery and his deeds of valor; even the old
men listened to him with respect, for they knew that his name was a
terror to his enemies. But Wenona turned from him! she hated to hear the
sound of his voice.

The old men talked of the mighty giant of the Dahcotahs, he who needed
not to take his gun to kill the game he wanted; the glance of his eye
would strike with death the deer, the buffalo, or even the bear.

The song, the jest, the legend, by turns occupied them until they
separated to sleep. But as the warriors stepped into the open air, why
does the light of the moon fall upon faces pale with terror? "See!" said
the chief, "how flash the mysterious lights! there is danger near, some
dreadful calamity is threatening us."

"We will shoot at them," said Red Cloud; "we will destroy their power."
And the Indians discharged their guns in quick succession towards the
northern horizon, which was brilliantly illuminated with the Aurora
Borealis; thus hoping to ward off coming danger.

The brother and sister were left alone at the door of the teepee. The
stern warrior's looks expressed superstitious terror, while the maiden's
face was calm and fearless. "Do you not fear the power of the woman who
sits in the north, Wenona? she shows those flashes of light to tell us
of coming evil."

"What should I fear," said Wenona; "I, who will soon join my mother, my
father, my sisters, in the land of spirits? Listen to my words, my
brother: there are but two of us; strife and disease have laid low the
brave, the good, the beautiful; we are the last of our family; you will
soon be alone.

"Before the leaves fell from the trees, as I sat on the banks of the
Mississippi, I saw the fairy of the water. The moon was rising, but it
was not yet bright enough for me to see her figure distinctly. But I
knew her voice; I had often heard it in my dreams. 'Wenona,' she said,
(and the waves were still that they might hear her words), 'Wenona, the
lands of the Dahcotah are green and beaut