t her in his
arms, determined to see and talk with her.

Finding herself a prisoner, the girl turned her face to him, and Chaske
had never seen anything so beautiful.

Her skin was white as the fairest flower that droops its head over the
banks of the "Lac qui parle." Her hair was not plaited, neither was it
black like the Dahcotah maidens', but it hung in golden ringlets about
her face and neck. The warm blood tinted her cheeks as she met the
ardent gaze of the Dahcotah, and Chaske could not ask her who she was.
How could he speak when his heart was throbbing, and every pulse
beating wildly?

"Let me go," said the girl; "why do you seek to detain me? I am a
beaver-woman, [Footnote: According to the wise men of the Dahcotahs,
beavers and bears have souls. They have many traditions about bear and
beaver-women] and you are a Dahcotah warrior. Turn from me and find a
wife among the dark-faced maidens of your tribe."

"I have always despised them," said the Dahcotah, "but you are more
beautiful than the Spirits of the water. I love you, and will make
you my wife."

"Then you must give up your people," replied the girl, "for I cannot
live as the Dahcotah women. Come with me to my white lodge, and we will
be happy; for see the bright water as it falls on the rocks. We will sit
by its banks during the heat of the day, and when we are tired, the
music of its waves will lull us to sleep."

So she took Chaske by the hand, and they walked on till they came to an
empty white lodge, and there they lived and were very happy. They were
still happier when their little boy began to play about the lodge; for
although they loved each other very much, still it was lonely where they
lived, and the child was company for them both.

There was one thing, however, that troubled the Dahcotah; he could not
turn his mind from it, and day after day passed without relieving him
from his perplexity. His beautiful wife never ate with him. When he
returned in the evening from hunting, she was always glad to see him,
and while he rested himself and smoked, she would cook his meat for him,
and seem anxious to make him comfortable. But he had never seen her eat;
and when he would tell her that he did not like to eat alone, and beg
her to sit down and eat with him, she would say she was not hungry; and
then employ herself about her wigwam, as if she did not wish him to say
any more about it.

Chaske made up his mind that he would find out what hi