CHAPTER XXIV.

Little Bertha.

Up to this moment Bertha had remained a delighted, though
half-unconscious, spectator of what was passing. While Sprigg was
unbosoming, all unwittingly, his Manitou experiences, her innocent eyes,
without losing their look of dreamy, solemn wonder, had gradually
brightened with unwonted intelligence, mixed with delight, as were she
beholding, in their truer and more benign aspect, the marvels which had
revealed themselves to him in shapes of terror and retribution. Of
course, what Bertha saw and heard she only comprehended in part what had
been revealed; yet was she and ever would be the wiser and the happier
for the seeing and the hearing.

But now, with the young stentor's uncouth roar of joy, shaking the
infant settlement from center to circumference, snapped was the Manitou
spell, broken the Manitou dream. Gliding out of the house; away, like a
bird, to the woods she fluttered, there, all unobserved, she fell to
dancing about for very thankfulness and joy, the evening sunbeams
dancing with her, as were she a sunbeam, too in human likeness.

"Oh! could I but tell him, who loves little children, how thankful, how
happy I am! But I'm only a little girl, and don't know how!"

Thus spoke innocent Bertha, dancing all the while, and dancing all the
blither for not knowing how to tell it--so ready is heaven to compensate
our lackings when love is in our hearts. And yet she had told it better
than she knew; for, though the body was dancing, the soul was kneeling;
and such a soul, so lovely and so bright, that the good Manitous--those
who were crowned with the crimson flowers, and those who wore the wings
and plumes of beautiful birds--came flitting to her, drawn by sweet
attraction. One minute, they joined hands and wheeled their unseen ring
around the human innocent, their presence filling the air with perfume
delectable to breathe. Then, suddenly parting, each at a tangent to the
whirling circle, away they flew to bear the good news far and wide. And
the good news went to many a father and many a mother; and, though it
came from unseen lips, in unheard words, it left a shining in the eyes,
a burning in the heart, which told it had been spoken; and many a son
and daughter of the red race, looking westward, whispered:

When thus smiles the setting sun,
Lo! a Manitou race is run;
All's well ended all's well done--
Wahkontonka wills it.

Ever thus