ed and
died, endeavored and failed.' If such, then, be his story, why should
more than this be known of Kumshakah? Let him sleep. Wahcoudah's will be
done.

"White man, let us look another way."

Then, with the weird light of prophecy in his eye, imparting to its
wonted brightness a mystical dimness, the Indian chief thus ended:

"White man, listen! Up from the opening east, where the birds of morning
are singing, the rising sun is leading your people over the earth to
riches, to power, and to glory Down into the closing west, where the
birds of evening are silent, the setting sun is leading my
people--whither, who shall say? But to become extinct, and be numbered
with the things forgotten. But who shall say that the same Great Spirit
who dwells in the rising sun, bidding his white children go forth and
toil upon the earth, dwells not also in the setting sun, bidding his red
children come and rest in the happy hunting-grounds? It is even so, and
it is well. Let Wahcoudah rule. Rule, great Wahcoudah!"

Here paused the Indian for a moment, his eagle-eye unflinchingly bent on
the setting sun. "Yes, it is even so, and it is well," he repeated. "Let
great Wahcoudah's will be done. White brother, farewell! and you, my
black brother, both farewell!"

In silence each took, in his turn, the proffered hand, Reynolds too
profoundly moved at the Indian's words to speak, and Burl, overawed at
his manner and appearance, which, while he was speaking, had risen into
the solemn and sublime. Without another word, he was gone. They followed
him with their eyes as swiftly, duskily he went gliding away through the
glimmering shades of evening. As he reached the brink of the hill on
which they stood, a parting beam from the setting sun--sent streaming,
broad and bright and red, through a vista in the forest--poured round
him for an instant a flood of melancholy glory. A moment more, and the
Indian chief had vanished--plunged in the twilight depths of the valley
beyond.

That night, as the young Kentuckian lay sleeping in his tent, still
through his dreams he saw that face--a face it was to leave an image on
the eye. And still through his dreams he heard that voice--a voice it
was to leave an echo in the ear. The face reflecting ever the light of
the setting sun; the voice repeating ever, "Rule, great Wahcoudah!"

Chapter XXI.

HOW THE GLORY OF HIS RACE FIGURED IN HIS SETTING.

The following day was the fifth of October, 18