over the dim ghost trail to the shadow-land. She
tried to shake off the fancy, but all was so vague and dreamlike that
she hardly knew where or what she was; yet over it all brooded the
consciousness of dull, heavy, torturing pain, like the dumb agony that
comes to us in fevered sleep, burdening our dreams with a black
oppressing weight of horror.

Her hand, hanging listlessly at her side, touched her flute, which was
still suspended from her belt by the golden chain. She raised it to
her lips, but only a faint inharmonious note came from it. The music
seemed gone from the flute, as hope was gone from her heart. To her
overwrought nerves, it was the last omen of all. The flute dropped
from her fingers; she covered her face with her hands, and the hot
tears coursed slowly down her cheeks.

Some one spoke to her, not ungently, and she looked up. One of the
canoe-men stood beside her. He pointed to the canoe, now launched near
by. Snoqualmie was still below, at the foot of the falls,
superintending the removal of the other.

Slowly and wearily she entered the waiting canoe and resumed her seat.
The Indian paddlers took their places. They told her that the chief
Snoqualmie had bidden them take her on without him. He would follow in
the other canoe. It was a relief to be free from his presence, if only
for a little while; and the sadness on her face lightened for a moment
when they told her.

A few quick paddle-strokes, and the boat shot out into the current
above the cascades and then glided forward. No, _not_ forward. The
canoe-men, unfamiliar with the new cataract, had launched their vessel
too close to the falls; and the mighty current was drawing it back. A
cry of horror burst from their lips as they realized their danger, and
their paddles were dashed into the water with frenzied violence. The
canoe hung quivering through all its slender length between the
desperate strokes that impelled it forward and the tremendous suction
that drew it down. Had they been closer to the bank, they might have
saved themselves; but they were too far out in the current. They felt
the canoe slipping back in spite of their frantic efforts, slowly at
first, then more swiftly; and they knew there was no hope.

The paddles fell from their hands. One boatman leaped from the canoe
with the desperate idea of swimming ashore, but the current instantly
swept him under and out of sight; the other sat motionless in his
place, awaiting the end