ACHIUVV/& SUN
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 A CHILD of the SUN
 
 'WHAT is AN ARROW MORE OR LESS?' : 
 
 SEE PAGE 102.
 
 CHILD of the SUN 
 
 E, 
 
 CHARLES EUGENE BANKS 
 
 Illustrations by 
 LOUIS BETTS 
 
 HERBERT S. STONE fef COMPANY 
 
 ELDRIDGE COURT, CHICAGO 
 
 MDCCCC
 
 COPYRIGHT igOO BY 
 HERBERT S. STONE & CO.
 
 WAUPELLO, THE CHILD OF THE SUN.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 J 
 
 I. THE ARCTIDES . . . . 
 
 II. THE VILLAGE OF THE ARCTIDES . 
 
 III. MINNO, THE PROPHET ; ... 
 
 IV. PAKOBLE, THE ROSE . . . 
 V. THE CHIEFTAIN'S FUNERAL . . 
 
 VI. THE BUFFALO-DANCE . . . 
 
 VII. THE PIASAU . . . . >. 
 
 VIII. THE BIRD OF BEAUTIFUL PLUMAGE 
 
 IX. THE COUNCIL . . . . . 
 
 X. FEAST OF WAUPELLO, THE FIRSTBORN 
 
 XI. A CHILD OF THE SUN 
 
 XII. THE FAIR CHILD . . . 
 
 XIII. THE GREAT MYSTERY 
 
 XIV. A NEW VOICE IN THE WOODS . 
 XV. TIOMA, THE STORY-TELLER . . 
 
 XVI. AN ANGRY SKY 
 
 XVII. THE RETURN OF THE PIASAU . . 
 
 XVIII. THE SUPREME FESTIVAL . . 
 
 XIX. TlOMA AND THE CHILDREN . . 
 
 XX. THE WORD 
 
 XXI. THE ARROW OF THE SUN . . 
 
 XXII. ALL VOICES MERGE IN ONE . 
 
 XXIII. THE FIGHT ON THE CLIFF . . 
 
 XXIV. THE DEATH OF THE PIASAU . 
 XXV. THE DEPARTURE .... 
 
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 A CHILD OF THE SUN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE ARCTIDES 
 
 The Arctides differed in many particulars froni the 
 other nations of Red Men. According to tribal tradi- 
 tion, they were descended from the sun, Hasihta being 
 their first earthly father. While the migrations of all 
 the other Indian tribes were westward, the journeys of 
 the Arctides had been ever toward the east. 
 
 To reach the country which they now inhabited, 
 the tribe had found it necessary to cross a great lake, 
 or water, which was shallow, narrow, and full of rocky 
 islands. But far worse than the voyage across the 
 water were the terrible fields of snow and ice which 
 they were compelled to encounter, and being little 
 accustomed to even the slightest cold, the Arctides 
 were unutterably wretched until they left the frozen 
 region far behind them. 
 
 When the Children of the Sun first set foot upon 
 the new shore, the earth all about the landing-place
 
 2 A Child of the Sun 
 
 showed itself strewn with quantities of reddish- 
 yellow metal, Antee, the copper. Quickly they made 
 for themselves spears and arrowheads, and the many 
 useful utensils needed in their homes cooking-pots, 
 and spoons, and knives with points. 
 
 But ere long this metal disappeared, and in their 
 travels the copper vessels were so often lost or for- 
 gotten that nothing remained of them. One piece in 
 the Council Chamber was the only trace of copper to 
 be found among their possessions. 
 
 Powerful and numerous as the tribe of Arctides 
 once had been, it had slowly but surely diminished, 
 until only a few scattered villages remained on the 
 banks of the Long River. 
 
 To no earthly cause, however, was the destruction 
 of this noble race attributed. In their battles with 
 other tribes they had always been the conquerors, and 
 in great learning they were without equal amongst the 
 Indian nations. 
 
 When the men of the tribe went forth in the 
 chase, they did not return empty-handed. To their 
 bows and to their spears fell the choicest game, until 
 "May the fortune of the Arctides attend you on the 
 chase," became a maxim. 
 
 Very brave were they, fearing neither man nor 
 multitudes in the defense of their liberty; very gener- 
 ous were they, too, for when once the fight was over 
 they tendered every kindness to the conquered, bind-
 
 The Arctides 3 
 
 ing up their wounds, bringing them water and food, so 
 that none might suffer needlessly. 
 
 The men of the race of Arctides were tall, lithe, 
 and muscular. The face was the fine face of the 
 student; the slender nostrils quivering with every 
 breath, the wide eyes gleaming with eagerness and 
 wisdom, the forehead swelling grandly beneath the 
 long, smooth, heavy black hair, the chin curved like 
 the cleanly trimmed bow of their birch canoes. 
 Proudly erect were their heads on their muscular 
 throats, and when they smiled their teeth were spar- 
 kling white between the curving lip-lines. 
 
 The women were fine as the men were noble. 
 They carried the unquenchable beauty of the tribe, and 
 the warriors of other nations cast longing eyes on the 
 maidens of the Arctides, so dark of eye, so soft of 
 voice were they, so grandly erect they walked, girdled 
 with virtue. Their laugh was the music of the thrush, 
 rippling from their ruddy lips. Like crowns above 
 their beautiful low brows, they bound their glorious 
 dark hair, or let it fall like a robe over their 
 shoulders. 
 
 With willing hands they wove the soft baskets for 
 the new corn and sweet roots dug from the earth, or 
 wrought ever so cunningly the necklaces and girdles of 
 their tribe. 
 
 The Children of the Sun would have multiplied 
 greatly had it not been for an evil thing that had
 
 4 A Child of the Sun 
 
 befallen them many thousand moons before they had 
 arrived at their home by the Long River. 
 
 Once, when stung to furious wrath at the insolent 
 disobedience of Hasihta, the Sun Man, Gitche Manito, 
 the Great Spirit, had created the terrible Piasau, Bird 
 of Evil. It was decreed that this horrible monster 
 should feast only on the people of this tribe; and 
 having once tasted human flesh and blood, nothing 
 else appeased its voracious appetite. 
 
 The Piasau was a winged monster with horns like 
 a roebuck, fiery red eyes, and a beard like the buffalo 
 bull. The face was not unlike the face of a man, with 
 the thick lips drawn back from horrible, sharp, white 
 teeth. Its body was covered with scales as large as 
 clam shells. Its claws were like the claws of the 
 eagle many times multiplied, and its tail was so long 
 that it passed entirely around the body, over the head 
 and between the legs, ending like the tail of a fish. 
 
 Its huge wings were a shell-like green, and so 
 large that their folding and unfolding produced sounds 
 like the rushing of many winds. 
 
 As soon as Gitche Manito had sent the Piasau as a 
 curse upon the Children of the Sun, he regretted that 
 for the disobedience of one man the innocent for 
 generations to follow would be compelled to suffer, 
 and calling a council of the Arctides, the Great Spirit 
 spoke, saying: 
 
 "I have sent you the Piasau, Bird of Evil, because
 
 The Arctides 5 
 
 Hasihta displeased me. But you, who have done no 
 wrong, should not be made to suffer eternally for his 
 wrong-doing. Behold, I have created an arrow, the 
 Arrow of the Sun. On a day there shall come to the 
 men of Arctides a descendant of Hasihta. As a great 
 prophet he shall come, and when he is amongst you 
 he will relate why I have given you the arrow and will 
 tell you how to use it. Guard the arrow with your 
 lives, hold it forever sacred, for on it dependeth the 
 final hope of the Arctides. Take it, O men of 
 Arctides, and depart." 
 
 The Arrow of the Sun was sealed in a copper case, 
 exquisitely decorated. The seal was that of the sun, 
 and the case could never be opened save by a word 
 which the Great Spirit withheld until the people were 
 worthy to receive it. 
 
 Beneath a golden disk of the sun in the Council 
 Chamber of the tribe, the beautiful arrow awaited the 
 coming of the child of the line of Hasihta, who was to 
 break the seal, fit the arrow to his bowstring, and go 
 forth to slay the Piasau. 
 
 From the day on which the Piasau was first sent 
 forth as a creature of destruction, he never ceased his 
 persecution of the people of Arctides, and the tribe 
 waited none too patiently for the fulfillment of the 
 prophecy made so long ago. 
 
 High up amongst the cliffs where no man might go 
 dwelt the Bird of Evil. Whenever it sallied forth,
 
 6 A Child of the Sun 
 
 spreading its awful wings like a pall over the village 
 sky, men, women, and children sickened unto death, and 
 the Piasau feasted. 
 
 Neither were the spirits of the departed warriors 
 permitted to journey safely to the Happy Hunting 
 Grounds, for, hovering on the border of the beautiful 
 lake over which the souls were bound to voyage, the 
 monster lay in wait to capture and bear them away to 
 its foul nest in the cliff, devouring them at its leisure, 
 to keep life in its own evil veins.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE VILLAGE OF THE ARCTIDES 
 
 Twas the season of the Strawberry Moon in the 
 country of the Arctides. 
 
 Hip-high on the broad prairie stood the grasses, 
 waving like an emerald sea. The rugged banks of the 
 Long River were crowned with oak, beech, and maple 
 trees, rich with summer foliage. Walnuts and hickories, 
 their slender boughs bending beneath the weight of 
 half-grown nuts, stood phalanx-like in the dark, cool 
 forest. 
 
 Above the ravines, rank with fern and lichen, the 
 blackberry bushes drooped with their burden of ripen- 
 ing fruit, whilst out on the undulating plains the lus- 
 cious strawberries hid themselves from prying eyes in 
 the fresh, sweet grasses. 
 
 The shores of the Long River were steep and rocky, 
 but sloped easily and gently toward the open country 
 of the north and the west. 
 
 The village of the Arctides was built about an open 
 space on the hillside. 
 
 On an eminence overlooking the river, to the east, 
 stood the principal tepee of the Arctides, the beautiful 
 
 7
 
 8 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Council Chamber, where the chieftains sat together and 
 planned the conduct of the tribe. 
 
 The Council Chamber was a long, broad room, with 
 vaulted ceiling, and almost perpendicular sides. The 
 arched roof was formed of young hickory saplings, bent 
 to the desired shape, and fastened with plaited thongs 
 of deerskin. For this structure the Arctides used more 
 than a hundred arches and made it the combined 
 length of ten deerskins, so that the lodge was a most 
 imposing edifice. Completely covering these arches 
 were buffalo-skins laid together with such exactitude 
 that neither the cold of winter nor the heat of summer 
 might penetrate the hall. 
 
 The roof and sides of the Council Chamber were 
 gorgeously decorated with figures and writings telling 
 of the wonderful adventures that had befallen the 
 Children of the Sun for untold generations. The floor 
 was thickly strewn with the finest skins the Arctides 
 had been able to obtain, making a carpet as soft as a 
 summer cloud. 
 
 Depending from the arches, and suspended from 
 hundreds of antlers of the moose and the deer fas- 
 tened to the wall, were skins of all sorts. Great bunches 
 of feathers and strings of wampum gave an air of bril- 
 liancy and richness to the interior. 
 
 The lodge was open at both ends for the purpose of 
 lighting it, but so cleverly were the skins that hung at 
 the entrance fitted, that it was possible to close the
 
 The Village of the Arctides 9 
 
 lodge so completely that not a single ray of light 
 entered. 
 
 In the interior of the Council Chamber, and at the 
 extreme eastern end, upon an altar of stone, carved 
 with a figure of Hasihta, stood the shield of the tribe, 
 adorned with a glowing picture of the sun. Immedi- 
 ately in front of the shield, in its decorated casing, 
 rested the Arrow of the Sun. All about the altar, ar- 
 ranged with the minutest attention to detail, were the 
 ceremonial robes and head-dresses of the tribe, the 
 pouches and powerful charms used by the medicine- 
 men, the ceremonial drums and the musical instru- 
 ments. 
 
 Immediately above the altar, in a skin splendidly 
 trimmed with the highly polished teeth of wild animals 
 and eagle-feathers, reposed the Peace Pipe; and in a 
 receptacle especially fashioned for them by the medi- 
 cine-men of the tribe were the bone Images of the 
 Sun. These images had been, according to tradition, 
 carved by the sun itself and dropped in the paths of the 
 prophets. They were the most cherished belongings 
 of the tribe, used in all their religious ceremonies. 
 
 At the extreme west end of the Council Chamber 
 was the picture of the Piasau bird, depicted in all its 
 grinning horror upon the skin of a buffalo. Before the 
 picture of the monster gifts were placed as peace offer- 
 ings, for the Children of the Sun stood in great fear of 
 the bird, and hoped by this means to propitiate it
 
 io A Child of the Sun 
 
 and avoid the disasters that were constantly befalling 
 them. 
 
 Below the Council Chamber, and at a little distance 
 to the right, was the lodge of Minno, the leading 
 prophet of the tribe, a substantial tepee, built of buffalo- 
 hides and bark. The sustaining pillars were of young 
 hickory trees, and the wide and inviting entrance was 
 hung with ropes of deer and bear skins. The sides of 
 the tepee were painted with allegorical pictures repre- 
 senting the most important epochs in the history of the 
 totem' of the Beaver, of which Minno was the oldest 
 living descendant. 
 
 The floor of Minno's hut, not unlike the floor of the 
 Council Chamber, was also strewn with the skins of the 
 otter, the fox, and the bear. About the sides of the 
 lodge were hung the symbols of the prophet, medi- 
 cine-bags, thunder-clubs, bunches of sacred feathers, 
 innumerable claws of birds, and teeth of the gray wolf 
 and the bear. Beneath the roof, in a fanciful border, 
 were hung the skins of snakes and the heads of hun- 
 dreds of birds that had died in the forest. 
 
 Beyond the Council Chamber, on the extreme edge 
 of the bluff, was the Minno watchtower. Here were 
 kindled the signal-fires for communication between 
 the tribes. Eloquent were the flames, and so carefully 
 was the burning regulated that they made known with 
 nicety any message to those at a great distance. 
 
 The tepees of the villagers were scattered about in
 
 The Village of the Arctides n 
 
 irregular patches, and were elegant or plain, as the 
 owners pleased. The entrances to the tepees were 
 never closed, except to shut out the storm or cold. The 
 greatest freedom existed in the village, and the mem- 
 bers of the tribe entered or left their neighbors' dwell- 
 ings as freely as their own. 
 
 In the center of the village was a large clearing, in 
 which went forward all the games and jousts of the tribe. 
 Here the feasts were celebrated, and here the children 
 ran races, played at ball, wrestled, or shot their arrows 
 at targets. Around to the east, in a sweeping curve, 
 wound the Long River.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 MINNO, THE PROPHET 
 
 Minno, the Prophet, was called by his tribe the 
 Father of the Arctides. He was descended from 
 Hasihta, the Sun Man, through a long line of prophets, 
 and was loved by all the people,, as much for his sim- 
 plicity and rugged strength of character as for his 
 wisdom. All his years had been spent in promoting 
 the happiness of his people. Every effort of his noble 
 mind had been bent on teaching them the beautiful 
 way of life. He told them the mysteries of the trees 
 and flowers, the language of the birds that built their 
 nests in the forests and amongst the rocks, the action 
 of the animals of prairie and wood, the ways of the fish 
 in the rivers, and the words of the running waters. He 
 taught them to perfect themselves in everything they 
 undertook, so that the handiwork of the Arctides was 
 noted for its perfection and beauty. 
 
 Minno, though the oldest of the Children of the 
 Sun, was as erect as the white oak that stood be- 
 side his tepee. His flashing, deep-set eyes, and the 
 vibrant tones of his voice, with the wisdom of his 
 words, gained him always the undivided attention of
 
 Minno, the Prophet 13 
 
 the Council. True, he was the living mouthpiece of 
 the Manitos, and that alone would have entitled him 
 to respect; but it was the magnificent courage and ab- 
 solute fearlessness of the man, his natural dignity and 
 the purity of his soul, which caused the Arctides to 
 love and honor him, and he held a place in their affec- 
 tions little short of idolatry. 
 
 And to Minno the Good, Minno the Prophet, 
 Minno the Father of the Arctides, all the Children of 
 the Sun looked for relief from Piasau, the monster, 
 who was furiously destroying the remnants of this 
 once powerful nation. 
 
 When Minno, a mere youth, was keeping his first 
 fast and lonely vigil in the depths of the forest, he had 
 been told in a dream that the time was approaching 
 for the coming of him who should destroy the Piasau. 
 
 The manner of it was this: 
 
 For ten days Minno remained in the forest, faith- 
 fully keeping his fast and listening to the voices of the 
 Manitos. When his fast was over he returned to the 
 village, and as soon as he had eaten of the meat pre- 
 pared for him, and drunk of the water from the Sacred 
 Spring, he went into the Council Chamber to tell the 
 adventures that had befallen him in the forest. 
 
 The chiefs being assembled, he was bidden to 
 speak; and thereupon Minno, lifting up his young 
 head, repeated quietly and modestly the words the 
 Great Spirit had spoken to him:
 
 H A Child of the Sun 
 
 " When my fast was almost over I heard a voice 
 saying, ' Minno, Minno, not for you is the glory of war 
 and the pleasure of the chase. Go back to the vil- 
 lage, to those who await your returning. Wash the 
 black paint from your eyelids, washing it too from 
 your cheeks and the temples resting above them. 
 
 4 ' Put from your heart and your mind all thought 
 of the war and its glory, and when the moon is once 
 more a slender bow in the heavens, go to the foot of 
 the cliff, the cliff that runs up from the valley; there 
 by the Sacred Spring deep bury your bows and your 
 arrows; bury your tomahawk too, and your war spear 
 and shield you must bury. 
 
 " ' I, the Great Spirit, have chosen that you shall 
 be noted for wisdom. Quick shall your ears be to hear 
 the voice that dwells in the forest, so may you prove 
 yourself strong and wise in the tribe of Arctides. And 
 finally one of your blood shall be born to the care- 
 ridden people who shall take up the beautiful arrow 
 and slay the monster Piasau. 
 
 1 ' When the day shall have dawned heralding the 
 birth of the infant, then will I give you a sign, that the 
 child may be known to the people. Teach and in- 
 struct him, O Minno! Guide him in truth and in wis- 
 dom; teach him the beautiful way of the life that has 
 now been foretold you. 
 
 ' ' Heed ye the voice of the Spirit, Prophet of all 
 the Arctides. Do even so as I bid you, and there shall
 
 '^*S? 
 
 ^**tifei^Ji^ ! 
 
 ;**> .'.^ /x.V. 
 
 -'^'.-.. > r ^ t> 
 
 '<W^ 
 
 RECEIVING THE BLESSING OF THE SUN.
 
 Minno, the Prophet 15 
 
 be hope for your people. Kindle the fires on the altar 
 and wait for the child who is coming, coming to take 
 up the arrow, coming to slay the Piasau.' " 
 
 The people of the Arctides were told of the vision 
 of Minno, and they made a great feast to Gitche 
 Manito, and danced and sang for many days. 
 
 From that day Minno walked apart, fasting and 
 keeping watch, speaking the words of the Manitos. 
 
 Once more the village resumed its wonted quiet, 
 but the people went about with cheerful faces and 
 light hearts, feeling certain that the day was not 
 far removed when the dream of Minno would be ful- 
 filled. 
 
 Minno, the boy, shot into manhood so quickly that 
 the tribe could hardly realize that the tall and muscu- 
 lar youth who walked so quietly amongst them was 
 but a few short years before the child who had come 
 to them with the Prophecy of Good. 
 
 Then one day Minno announced in the Council 
 that he was about to marry Ahmeequa, daughter of 
 Ogema, the leading chieftain. Great was the rejoic- 
 ing, and for three days the people of Arctides feasted 
 and made merry, to celebrate the nuptials of the young 
 prophet and the beautiful and good Ahmeequa. 
 
 The firstborn of Minno and Ahmeequa was a son, 
 whom they called Nirigwis, and the mother and father 
 waited anxiously for some sign from the Manitos to tell 
 what the future of the lad would be. The people of Arc-
 
 1 6 A Child of the Sun 
 
 tides believed the child to be the one who was to wield 
 the Arrow of the Sun, and waited impatiently until the 
 day when he should keep his first fast and vigil. Daily 
 did Minno tell little Nirigwis what future would be ex- 
 pected of him and what his work was to be. But the 
 pretty child shook his head gravely and said, " Dear 
 father, it does not seem so to me. I long to play with the 
 robins and rest by the cool blue waters. I will go to the 
 Manitos soon, dear father, and tell them how I love the 
 voices of the birds, and what the waters and the streams 
 say to me. Dost think they will listen, my father?" 
 
 Then Minno would clasp the boy to his heart and 
 beg him to give heed to the prophecy, and the boy 
 would promise, and try to remember, and was so loving 
 and merry that sometimes Minno almost wished that 
 he might let his boy race and play and join in the 
 mimic hunt with the other youths of the village. But 
 Minno could not lose sight of the prophecy, and he 
 prayed constantly for its fulfillment. 
 
 When the day dawned that Nirigwis was to go to 
 the forest for his first fast and vigil, even as Minno had 
 done, Ahmeequa brought him the mat she had woven 
 for him to recline upon, and Minno, taking the boy's 
 hand, led him into the deep forest, where years before 
 the father had kept his watch, and left him there, with 
 a last loving embrace. Ten days Nirigwis stayed 
 alone, eating nothing, and listening for the voice of 
 the good spirits who would reveal his future to him.
 
 Minno, the Prophet 
 
 But when the tenth day ended, Nirigwis was with the 
 Manitos and neither his father nor his mother nor any 
 of his tribe ever beheld him again. 
 
 Bitterly did the tribe and the parents mourn for 
 little Nirigwis, but even while they were overcome 
 with sorrow another son was born to Minno and to 
 Ahmeequa, and again the people were glad. The 
 mourning was changed to rejoicing, and the feast-fires 
 burned with a ruddy glow. 
 
 Minno was very proud and happy at the child's 
 coming, and because he shouted so lustily, and fought 
 so bravely with his tiny fists, the father gave him the 
 name of Soangataha, the Strongheart, and again the 
 tribe feasted and beat the war drums, and said, There 
 he is! He is Soangataha, the Strongheart. Now let 
 Piasau beware, for the days of his terror are num- 
 bered. 
 
 While Soangataha was yet a baby, Ahmeequa died, 
 and the boy grew to manhood without the loving care 
 of a mother. But he was a sturdy youth, and early be- 
 came a leader. In the mimic chase he performed with 
 such dash and fearlessness that sometimes Minno 
 feared he would be killed. 
 
 He cared so much for sport and so little for learn- 
 ing that Minno spent days and weeks in the forest, 
 praying that his son might become less interested in 
 the hunt and in the tales of the warriors' great prow- 
 ess, and turn his mind to the work that was appor-
 
 i8 A Child of the Sun 
 
 tioned to him, that of slaying the Piasau. Minno told 
 the boy what the people of Arctides expected of him; 
 but Little Strongheart only laughed, and said he was 
 the one appointed to slay Piasau. 
 
 "Of course I will slay the bird. Give me but the 
 arrow and I will kill him as soon as I grow to be a 
 man. That is why I want to hunt the buffalo, so that 
 I may know how to shoot. See, father, the boys are 
 playing at hunting. Let me go, dearest father, and 
 play with them." Then Soangataha would fling his 
 strong arms around Minno's neck, and lay his cheek 
 against his father's, and look at him with the glorious 
 eyes of Ahmeequa, the mother, whose image forever 
 burned in Minno's heart. And Minno could no longer 
 refuse the lad's importunities, and would bid him go 
 and join the sport. 
 
 For all Minno's care, and he spared neither the 
 boy nor himself in the lessons he tried to grave on 
 Soangataha' s heart, Strongheart cared nothing for the 
 teachings of Wisdom. He gloried in the chase and 
 the fierce encounters of fighting, and waited with 
 frantic impatience the hour when he might be permit- 
 ted to lead the warriors in battle. 
 
 So numerous and heroic were Strongheart's ex- 
 ploits that when hardly more than a youth he was 
 made the chieftain of the Children of the Sun, and 
 had the place of honor next to Minno in the Council 
 Chamber.
 
 Minno, the Prophet 19 
 
 When Strongheart had been chieftain almost a 
 year, Pakoble, daughter of Pakablingge, one of the 
 warriors of the Arctides, became the bride of Strong- 
 heart. Not many moons after the wedding a war was 
 declared between the Ojibwas and the Arctides, and 
 Strongheart hastened away to battle at the head of his 
 braves. 
 
 However much the people of the Arctides were 
 disappointed in the character of Strongheart, which 
 should, according to the dream of Minno, have been 
 studious and prayerful, instead of that of a brave and 
 a warrior, the Children of the Sun never for an instant 
 wavered in their faith in their prophet, and believed 
 implicitly that his dream would in the end be fulfilled.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 PAKOBLE, THE ROSE 
 
 Most beautiful amongst all the lovely women of the 
 Arctides was Pakoble, the Rose, wife of Strongheart 
 and daughter of Pakablingge. 
 
 A touch of summer was on her dark oval face. 
 The shadows of the autumn pools lurked in her deep 
 eyes. The heavily fringed eyelids drooping languidly, 
 the straight brows, the silky black hair sweeping 
 almost to her ankles, and the slender hands and feet, 
 made her so perfect in beauty that the artists of 
 the Arctides often begged the favor of her time, 
 that they might preserve her loveliness to future gen- 
 erations. 
 
 Her tall, slender figure was like the tiger lily grow- 
 ing beside the pond, and the meanest robe in her tepee 
 took on a wondrous beauty when she wrapped it about 
 her perfect shoulders. 
 
 But more beautiful, more lovely than either face or 
 figure, were the perfect girl-soul and beautiful mind that 
 were the heritage of Pakoble. All her words were as 
 honey, and full of gentle wisdom. Every maiden and 
 every matron in the little band of Arctides loved her,
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 21 
 
 and the men were her ready slaves. To Strongheart 
 she was the flower of perfection. In her were com- 
 bined all the elements of wife, mother, and sweetheart. 
 Her tender voice, the sweetness of her caresses, and 
 the purity of her heart filled the soul of her husband 
 with a delight so keen, with a reverence so exalted, 
 that his love became a great worship, and every look 
 of her eyes rested like balm on his wild, tumultuous 
 heart. 
 
 The air of early summer was heavy with the fra- 
 grance of ripening mandrakes. In the thick-leaved 
 trees the bluejays scolded each other and the creek 
 that ran by the village sang a wooing song. 
 
 Pakoble, lonely and longing for the return of 
 Strongheart, gathered up her weaving, and calling to 
 Shangadaya, the Ojibwa captive, who for more 
 years than she dared count had dwelt amongst the 
 Arctides, went out to sit on the natural terrace over- 
 looking the prairie, hoping to see the return of the 
 warriors. 
 
 Shangadaya, the Old One, was wrinkled and spare, 
 with a low, narrow forehead, deeply sunken eyes, and 
 stooping shoulders. Her hair was very thin and yel- 
 low with age, but her eyes held all the fire of youth, 
 and her teeth gleamed white and cruel, like the teeth 
 of some wild thing. 
 
 On a carpet of pine-boughs, strewn under a spread- 
 ing elm growing near the edge of the clearing, the two
 
 22 A Child of the Sun 
 
 women seated themselves, weaving the mats from the 
 rushes. 
 
 In the meadows about the village were planted 
 fields of beans and of squashes, and in great profusion 
 everywhere grew the tobacco-plant, its green leaves 
 shining brilliantly in the sun. 
 
 Stretching before the weavers to the north and 
 west were the prairie lands where grew patches of 
 corn, the spear-like tufts of its stalks glinting in the 
 sunshine like the weapons of an invading army. 
 
 But the martial corn, with its sword-like leaves and 
 silken tassels, held the only suggestion of strife or 
 combat in the village on that clear summer morning. 
 The warriors were all away, fighting with Wabojeeg 
 of the Ojibwas, sworn enemy of the Arctides. 
 The land of the Ojibwas lay beside the Cold Lake, to 
 the far north, and in the village of the Arctides only 
 the women and the children and the oldest men were 
 left at home. 
 
 Down in the clearing a number of Indian women 
 were cutting weeds from around the stalks of corn. 
 Beside the small creek that noisily pushed its way over 
 the rock-ledge, only to lose itself again in the long 
 wire-grass that lined its banks, a little group of 
 Indian boys shot blunt arrows across the water, 
 running waist-deep into the shallow pools to regain 
 them. 
 
 Close beside cliffs were gathered the growing lads
 
 ON A CARPET OF PINE- BOUGHS, THE TWO WOMEN SEATED 
 THEMSELVES, WEAVING THE MATS FROM THE RUSHES.
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 23 
 
 of the village, taking part in a mimic chase, wrestling 
 and playing leap-frog, or tumbling over one another 
 on the soft, luscious grass in pure exuberance of ani- 
 mal spirits. At their sides gamboled and barked the 
 Annemoosh, the long, lean, hungry sleepless wolf- 
 dog, playfellow of the Red Children. 
 
 Here and there, before one or another of the 
 tepees, an aged Indian sat squatting on the ground, 
 patiently chipping at a piece of flint, shaping it slowly 
 to some useful weapon of war or of the chase. 
 
 At a little distance from Pakoble sat Tioma, the 
 Big Voice, story-teller of the tribe of Arctides. About 
 his broad forehead, on each of his heavy cheeks, and 
 all over his immense torso, were painted scenes from 
 the tales he had invented. About his great paunch 
 was drawn a robe made from the skins of many ani- 
 mals. This garment was gorgeously trimmed with 
 feathers, and worn with the fur side out, an honor 
 bestowed upon Tioma by the Council for his skill in 
 story-telling. 
 
 "Are the playful Manitos whispering a new tale in 
 the ears of Tioma that he is so long silent ?" laugh- 
 ingly called Pakoble across the space. 
 
 "Tioma has already more tales in his heart than 
 the people of the Arctides care to hear," rumbled he 
 of the Big Voice. 
 
 "It may be that Tioma is mourning because his 
 huge bulk keeps him from the war," croaked the Old
 
 24 A Child of the Sun 
 
 One. "Truly, if he should fall upon the enemy he 
 would crush them." 
 
 "Tioma does not make war on weaklings," replied 
 the story-teller, puffing out his fat cheeks in derision. 
 "When he draws his bow it will not be against the 
 Ojibwas." 
 
 "The youths of the Ojibwas would beat the paunch 
 of Tioma like a war-drum, if he would but dare to go 
 amongst them," quoth Shangadaya. 
 
 "The children of the Ojibwas walk sideways and 
 are crooked, like Panaqui, son of Shangadaya," 
 roared Tioma, struggling to his feet, and approaching 
 the Old One with a frowning front. 
 
 At this moment a little crowd of half-grown Indian 
 lads came running out of the friendly shadows of the 
 wood, shouting playfully. 
 
 "Hawawa, wawa! The Pezheke ! the Buffalo! the 
 Buffalo!" they yelled, seeing Tioma; and brandishing 
 with pretended fierceness their blunt spears of iron- 
 wood, they charged upon the bulky story-teller in 
 fierce imitation of the hunt. 
 
 Tioma, hearing the cries, forgot his momentary 
 anger and spun around quickly to face his chosen 
 friends the children. In turning he caught his foot in 
 a tangle of grass, lost his balance, and toppled to the 
 ground. Unable to save himself, he rolled over and 
 over down the grassy incline, bellowing so loudly 
 as to put to shame even Jaba Pezheke, the buffalo
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 25 
 
 bull, that for the moment he was supposed to 
 represent. 
 
 Flying after him came the lads, laughing and 
 shrieking with joy to see the fat Big Voice, like a 
 giant stone, rattling and bumping adown the hillside. 
 
 When at last Tioma reached the bottom and 
 regained his feet, he shook himself free of the grasses 
 and brambles that clung to his robe, while the boys 
 danced and laughed merrily about him. When he had 
 recovered his breath, Tioma, not wishing to lose pres- 
 tige, bellowed lustily: 
 
 "Who so great as Tioma ! Who so quick to 
 evade the young hunters of the Arctides! The brav- 
 est warrior would fear to rush headlong over the preci- 
 pice; but not so Tioma. Fear flees like the wind 
 before the face of Tioma." 
 
 "Hawawa, wawa!" howled the lads, running about 
 the puffing story-teller; but Mantowesee, the Thought- 
 ful, leader of the little band of Indian boys, said at 
 last, "Come, Tioma, sit under the guardian pine yonder 
 and we will bring fresh strawberries from the meadows 
 and cold water from the brook to refresh the friend of 
 the Young Ones." 
 
 While this scene was being enacted at the foot of 
 the slope, Panaqui appeared on the brow of the hill 
 behind the women. 
 
 "Big Voice should have been called the Bluejay; 
 he is a chattering fool," sneered the Crooked One.
 
 26 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Pakoble started to hear the rasping voice of Pana- 
 qui, for the dwarf seldom spoke, and when he did it 
 was in a tone so low that only Shangadaya, his mother, 
 could understand. But now his voice was vibrant and 
 carried even to where Tioma and the boys were 
 gathered. 
 
 Shangadaya nodded her head in silent approval of 
 the dwarf's words, while she kept her angry eyes on 
 Tioma, moving away, with the children running beside 
 him. 
 
 Panaqui, the Crooked One, son of Shangadaya, 
 was not pleasant to look upon. His legs were short 
 and twisted, and a hunch disfigured his back. His 
 large bulging head was set deeply between high 
 shoulders, from which depended long sinewy arms, all 
 hairy, like the arms of the bear. 
 
 His nose was like the beak of a bird of prey; his 
 teeth were sharp and pointed, like those of a wolf, his 
 eyes like those of the badger, quick and cruel; and his 
 small receding chin quivered repulsively when he 
 spoke. 
 
 "Panaqui should remember it is only the tongue of 
 the adder that is ever ready to sting," cried Pakoble, 
 reprovingly. 
 
 "Panaqui, son of Shangadaya, may speak when it 
 pleaseth him, since he talks with a purpose, muttered 
 the Old One. He is not like Tioma, who rattles on 
 with great stories to please the silly youths that they
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 27 
 
 may bring him skins, and feed him all day with the 
 berries." 
 
 "If my people be pleased to give Tioma meat and 
 skins in return for his stories, they do no less for the 
 son of Shangadaya, who is not even one of their 
 nation," said Pakoble. 
 
 "Panaqui eats the bread of the captive," snarled 
 the Crooked One. "When he is free it will be time to 
 remember " 
 
 "Panaqui chatters like the squirrel," said the Old 
 One, turning her sharp eyes on her son. "Let him 
 heed the words of the Rose and remember." 
 
 The dwarf, catching the warning look of his mother, 
 turned moodily away, and the women again resumed 
 their weaving. 
 
 Presently Pakoble, dropping in her lap the rushes 
 that she had been listlessly twining, sat with her 
 solemn eyes gazing to the far north. 
 
 "The wife of Strongheart is silent!" said Shanga- 
 daya, the Old One, looking sharply into the face of 
 Pakoble. "Does she fear for the safety of her war- 
 rior?" 
 
 "Is not Pakoble the daughter of Pakablingge?" 
 said the younger woman, proudly. 
 
 "And is she not the young wife of Strongheart, 
 who has been gone this long moon to meet Wabojeeg, 
 the great chief of the Ojibwas, in the Land of the Cold 
 Waters?" cried the Old One.
 
 28 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Shangadaya spoke angrily, for although she had 
 spent nearly sixty years with the Arctides, yet she 
 longed for the success of the Ojibwas, and it vexed her 
 proud spirit greatly that Strongheart had sent back 
 tidings of splendid victories. 
 
 "But seven moons ago Pakoble became the bride 
 of Strongheart," replied the young wife, thoughtfully. 
 " Strongheart is a great warrior. Have not his 
 courage and skill in battle caused the Council to give 
 him to wear upon his head the horns of the buffalo? 
 There are not many on whom the Council confers such 
 honor. The husband of Pakoble is brave and noble, 
 and should fight the enemies of his people. But 
 Pakoble listens not for the shouts of victory. She 
 longs for the return of Strongheart, that she may hear 
 his voice, and be warmed by the light of his glances." 
 
 "Pakoble is a child," chided the Old One, "and 
 should have remained in the wigwam of her father." 
 
 "The sun will not shine while the husband of the 
 Rose faces the arrows of his enemies," said the young 
 woman, sadly. 
 
 "Nor will the mat be woven while the hands lie 
 idle on the rushes," replied Shangadaya, the Old One. 
 "Listen," she said, "and I, the Old One, will tell you a 
 story of another wife, a woman of my own tribe, who 
 loved too, but who was patient and did not sorrow. 
 It is the story of Nadowawka and Naygow her hus- 
 band. Great in wisdom and council was he, and
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 29 
 
 strong as the bear in battle. The scalps of his ene- 
 mies hung thick at his belt. His couch was made soft 
 with the skins of many animals his spears had slain. 
 The young men of his tribe beheld him with awe, for 
 he was truly a great warrior. But he fell sick and be- 
 came feeble in his walk, so that when the spring came 
 to the earth, and his people were ready to pack their 
 wigwams from their sugar-camp in the deep forest to 
 the open shore of the blue lake, Naygow's limbs broke 
 under him and he could not travel with the others. 
 
 " Half a moon away over the wide prairie the journey 
 was set for. Naygow felt that it was his last winter on 
 earth, and he longed to see once more the beautiful 
 lake, blue in the sunshine of spring; to breathe again 
 the soft breezes that shook themselves out of the 
 clouds of heaven. 
 
 " But Naygow knew that it was his lot to be left 
 behind, that his heart would melt with sorrow in his 
 bosom, and thus sorrowing, he would die. 
 
 "Then Nadowawka, his wife, lifted the feeble Nay- 
 gow upon her shoulders. About her head she fastened 
 the head-strap to aid in carrying her burden, and so 
 journeyed over the prairie country toward the wide, 
 blue waters of the lake. When her limbs would bend 
 beneath her, shaking like a storm-swept reed, she 
 would wait, resting. 
 
 " So at last she came to the end of the journey, and 
 the heart of her husband was gladdened, for now
 
 30 A Child of the Sun 
 
 when he died he could be buried by the side of the 
 warriors of his tribe who had gone before him." 
 
 " Nadowawka was brave and patient," said Pakoble, 
 softly. 
 
 " Shangadaya speaks truth," said the Old One. 
 
 " Is it true, Shangadaya, that you have been given 
 the secrets of the mysteries?" questioned Pakoble. 
 
 " Shangadaya has sat in the Jeesukaun, the lodge of 
 the prophets, and to her ears have come, as a song, the 
 voices of the spirit Manitos," cried the Old One, boast- 
 fully. " She has tried the strength of Wauwan, the 
 great medicine-man of your people, and triumphed over 
 him." 
 
 " If it is true, as you tell me, Shangadaya," cried 
 Pakoble, "if you can look with spirit eyes into the 
 future, tell me of Strongheart, away and at war with 
 the Ojibwas; tell me, is he leading his warriors in bat- 
 tle, or has he turned his face toward the village of the 
 Arctides? Oh, tell me, Shangadaya, whether he is 
 thinking of his own lodge-fire, if he thinks of me, 
 Pakoble, his wife?" 
 
 While Pakoble spoke there came a rush of wings 
 overhead, and the shadow of a raven, flying across the 
 sky, fell upon her face. 
 
 Shangadaya looked up quickly from her weaving 
 and saw the flight of the raven across the sun-filled 
 heaven, and as the bird's wings dipped for the upward 
 flight, she rocked herself to and fro, chanting weirdly:
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 31 
 
 Under the hollow sky, 
 
 Stretched o'er the prairie lone; 
 Center of glory, I, 
 
 Bleeding, disdain to groan. 
 But like a battle-cry, 
 
 Peals forth my thunder moan 
 Baim-wa-wa! 
 
 Star, morning star whose ray 
 
 Still with the dawn I see, 
 Quenchless through all the day, 
 
 Gazing, thou seest me. 
 Yon birds of carnage, they 
 
 Fright not my gaze from thee 
 Baim-wa-wa! 
 
 Bird in thine airy rings 
 
 Over the foeman's line, 
 Why do thy flapping wings 
 
 Nearer me thus incline? 
 Blood of the dauntless brings 
 
 Courage, O bird, to thine 
 Baim-wa-wa! 
 
 1 Hark to those spirit notes, 
 
 Ye high heroes divine; 
 Hymned from your God-like throats, 
 
 That song of praise is mine. 
 Mine, whose grave-pennon floats 
 Over the foeman's line 
 Baim-wa-wa!"
 
 32 A Child of the Sun 
 
 "That is the death-song of the Ojibwas," cried 
 Pakoble, clasping her slender hands and peering, with 
 great startled eyes, into the face of the Old One. 
 " Why comes it now to freeze the blood of Pakoble?" 
 
 " The shadow of the raven, omen of the battlefield, 
 has fallen upon the wife of Strongheart. Nevermore 
 will the son of Minno come to his wigwam with the sun 
 shining in his face." 
 
 As Shangadaya spoke, Pakoble, the Rose, saw far 
 away on the prairie a dark, slender line, like a black 
 ribbon, slowly pushing itself through the swaying 
 prairie grass. 
 
 " It is the warriors returning from battle," cried the 
 Old One, whose sharp eyes had seen the oncoming of 
 the braves long before Pakoble's misty gaze beheld 
 them. " They do not shout and leap and dance, and 
 fling their weapons above their heads with the joy of 
 victory. Shangadaya spoke truly, and Strongheart 
 will look no more upon the Rose." 
 
 Shangadaya swayed back and forth in her excite- 
 ment, and began to croon " Baim-wa-wa, Baim-wa-wa." 
 
 "And see!" she shrieked, interrupting her song, 
 " upon their shoulders they bear the body of the warrior 
 chief; the body of the Strongheart, the husband of 
 Pakoble. He has been called to the land of the Good 
 Spirits. The son of Minno will look no more upon the 
 face of the Wild Rose, the daughter of Pakablingge. 
 No more will he bring her soft skins to lie upon, and
 
 Pakoble, the Rose 33 
 
 the glittering shells of the rivers to deck the bosom of 
 her dress." 
 
 Not until Shangadaya had ceased speaking did 
 Pakoble fully comprehend the import of her words, 
 and not even then did she believe the prophecy of the 
 Old One, until with her own eyes she saw the approach- 
 ing band of warriors bearing the body of Strongheart. 
 Realizing that her husband would never more hold her 
 in his arms and whisper words of love, she uttered a 
 cry so piercing, so intense, that even Shangadaya 
 shrank to hear it. Pakoble flung herself forward on 
 the ground, crying aloud the name of Strongheart, 
 begging for one word from his lips ; one sign to tell 
 her that the terrible words of the captive were false. 
 
 But no voice answered Pakoble's heartbroken 
 pleading, and onward, with their quiet burden, came 
 the warriors of Arctides.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE CHIEFTAIN'S FUNERAL 
 
 The returning warriors left the plain and ascended 
 the slope, the body of their dead chieftain carried 
 upon their shoulders. 
 
 Hearing the cries of Pakoble, the women and chil- 
 dren of the village gathered together, waiting the com- 
 ing of the warriors, while the old men and the youths 
 hurried forward to meet the returning braves. 
 
 Preceding the solemn procession ran Wanahta, the 
 hunter. Leaping to the projecting ledge of rock 
 that marked the entrance to the village, he told rapid- 
 ly in the expressive sign language of the Arctides the 
 tale of the killing of Strongheart, and the return of 
 the warriors who were bringing home the body for 
 burial. 
 
 But it was not only because of his skill in battle 
 that Strongheart was beloved of his people, but be- 
 cause of his manly beauty and his freehearted ways. 
 
 On him, too, they had rested their hopes for the 
 destruction of Piasau, and these were again overthrown 
 by his death. Everywhere was wailing and lamen- 
 tation. 
 
 34
 
 The Chieftain's Funeral 35 
 
 Minno alone stood quietly in the door of his tepee, 
 giving no sign of the suffering that tore his heart 
 beneath his ribs, as the men of Arctides brought to his 
 tepee the body of his warrior son. 
 
 Bravely erect stood Minno, his muscular arms 
 folded above his breast, his burning eyes fixed on the 
 figure of Strongheart lying stiff and still beneath the 
 chieftain's robe that such a little while before had for 
 the first time hung upon his shoulders when he took 
 his seat in the Council Chamber. 
 
 Pakoble came to throw herself upon the ground 
 before Minno, her long black hair hiding the sorrow 
 that lay like a veil on her beautiful face. 
 
 The warriors, arriving at the door of Minno's 
 lodge, laid the body of Strongheart upon the hastily 
 constructed bier of skins, and stood mournful and 
 silent before the old father and the young wife. 
 
 Soon the women, gathering around Pakoble, began 
 chanting the dirge of the tribe. Then the Wild Rose, 
 raising her face from the earth, looked upon her hus- 
 band lying cold in death. 
 
 With a cry so bitter, so mournful, so full of pain 
 that even the warriors shuddered, Pakoble flung her- 
 self upon the body of her dead love and wailed out her 
 lament. 
 
 "It was for him only that I lived," she cried. 
 "Him only I loved. With my heart and my soul and 
 my eyes I loved him.
 
 36 A Child of the Sun 
 
 "It was for him that I prepared with joy the fresh- 
 killed meat and swept with boughs his lodge-fire. 
 
 "It was for him I dressed the skin of the elk, and 
 worked with my hands the moccasins that covered his 
 feet, even to his ankles. 
 
 "I waited each day, while the sun journeyed from 
 the winds of the east to the winds of the west, for his 
 return from the chase, and I rejoiced in my heart 
 when I heard the bough crackling beneath his tread; 
 he cast his burden at my feet, whilst his eyes spoke his 
 love. 
 
 "It was the haunch of the deer that he cast at my 
 feet, and I sprang to prepare the meat, that he might 
 eat. 
 
 "My heart lay upon his and he was as the waters 
 of the world about me, sweet and strong. 
 
 "Now that he has gone away from earth, I would 
 go too, for life is as naught without his love to comfort 
 me, his strength to shield me." 
 
 As Pakoble's voice died away in wailing, the war- 
 riors again took up the body of Strongheart, and 
 brought it to the door of his own wigwam, putting it 
 upon the bed of pine needles where he had slept in 
 life. 
 
 As they placed it in position, a file of women, who 
 were the appointed mourners of the tribe, came to 
 chant the death-song of the Arctides beside the bier of 
 their chief.
 
 The Chieftain's Funeral 37 
 
 The Tawaseutha, Hill of. the Dead, at the foot of 
 the cliff near the Sacred Spring, had been opened, and 
 in his coffin of bark and skins, Strongheart was laid 
 to sleep, the sleep that comes of a good life amongst 
 men. 
 
 Beside him lay his spear, which he had hurled so 
 often at the enemy and the buffalo; here also was his 
 tomahawk, wherewith he had finally dispatched his 
 foe, his bow of cedar and arrows of ironwood, feathered 
 with the golden eagle's plumage, and pointed with flint, 
 his hunting-knife, that had cut away the beautiful 
 skins of the buffalo when his arrows brought them low, 
 and the paddle of his canoe to row him across the 
 mystic waters. 
 
 Beneath his fingers lay his pouch of paints, all 
 ready for use on his journey to the other world; 
 at his feet the cup from which in life he had drunk 
 from cooling streams, with a cake made of the new corn, 
 and between his knees his flint and the torches of pine 
 that he might have light through the dark stages of 
 this last journey. All these things were buried with 
 the chief to cheer his spirit as it made its way to the 
 Happy Hunting Grounds. 
 
 Wanahta, who had been Strongheart's closest 
 friend, spoke the funeral oration. 
 
 "Strongheart, chief of Arctides and son of Minno, 
 has fallen," said Wanahta, " fallen because of the 
 treachery of his enemies; but not before he had won
 
 38 A Child of the Sun 
 
 the fight for which he had left his wigwam and his wife. 
 He was a good son, a brave warrior, a faithful hus- 
 band. That naught may vex his spirit on its journey to 
 the hereafter, the feast offering will be made to the 
 merciful Father, Gheeze Manito, who will guide his 
 steps as he goes. 
 
 "Drums will be beaten and the sacrifice made 
 according to the customs of our fathers. 
 
 "The flesh of the white dog will be burned on the 
 altar, and the smoke of tobacco will ascend, that the 
 Great Spirit may be made ;o smile and welcome the 
 soul of Strongheart, our chieftain. 
 
 "And ye, spirit of the noble Strongheart, to the 
 strangers that ye meet on the way, make it known 
 that Strongheart was Chief of Arctides, the Children 
 of the Sun; that he sat in the Council of the tribe, and 
 that he was of the family of Minno, of the totem of 
 the Beaver. 
 
 "Say, also, that he was the son of Minno, the 
 prophet, and the husband of Pakoble, daughter of 
 Pakablingge. 
 
 " His people know that Strongheart will not go 
 alone to the Happy Hunting Grounds. He will be 
 met by his tribesmen, and the friends of his tribesmen, 
 who have long since trodden the path that he must tread. 
 
 "Great will be the rejoicing in the Happy Hunting 
 Grounds at the coming of Strongheart, and the mighty 
 chiefs will furnish him forth with everything needful
 
 The Chieftain's Funeral 39 
 
 in his new abiding-place, in the land of light and flow- 
 ers and warmth. 
 
 "Be not troubled, O spirit, O Chief of the mourn- 
 ing Arctides, because of Pakoble, the young wife that 
 you have left behind you. She shall henceforward be 
 the care of your people. 
 
 "The men and the women of the tribe will soothe 
 and comfort her in her sorrow, and will guard her 
 tenderly, for your sake and for the sake of the son that 
 may come to heal her sore heart, fulfilling the dream 
 of our prophet, and slaying the dreadful Piasau. 
 
 " The warriors shall bring their best trophies to her 
 wigwam; her brethren will daily chant the song of 
 your tribe, telling in legend and in song the glorious 
 deeds of Strongheart. 
 
 "Till the Spirit Moon rides in the sky will we 
 bring to the burning fire the meat of the buffalo, the 
 meat from our cooking, to burn whilst we are eating. 
 
 " So shall the spirits of the Happy Hunting 
 Grounds know of thy worth and give you glad wel- 
 come amongst them, O son of Minno, the prophet." 
 
 "Farewell, farewell," cried Pakablingge, flinging 
 wide his arms across the body of Strongheart. "Thrice 
 farewell, O Chieftain of the Arctides. But a little 
 while and we shall come and look upon thy face again, 
 and sun ourselves in the warmth of thy smile. The 
 going is forever, the staying but a little while. Glad 
 are we that we are of thy tribe. Farewell! "
 
 40 A Child of the Sun 
 
 When this part of the ceremony was concluded the 
 women resumed their wailing, while the braves re- 
 moved the thongs that had bound the lid of the coffin, 
 leaving the cover loose, so that the spirit of the chief 
 might come forth at will. 
 
 Then the assembled warriors brought forth the food 
 they had prepared for the dead and put it softly near 
 the head of the grave, so that the departing spirit 
 might eat and be strengthened for the journey. 
 
 When the last offices had been performed the 
 Indians turned again and walked slowly and sadly to 
 the village. 
 
 The near relatives of Strongheart, when they had 
 again reached their tepees, covered their faces with 
 black earth, clothed themselves in the coarse mourn- 
 ing-robes of the tribe, and retired from the sight of 
 their fellow-men to fast and mourn until the coming of 
 the Spirit Moon. 
 
 All the other villagers began the funeral feast that 
 should last until the sun had walked four times across 
 the heavens, while the doleful drum sounded inces- 
 santly, and the mourners chanted the death-song, 
 slowly treading the dance of sorrow.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BUFFALO-DANCE 
 
 Summer was gone and the moon of the Falling 
 Leaf had come. Frost was painting the forest crimson, 
 purple, and gold. Darkly brown the rustling grasses 
 lay over the wide tumbling prairie. The corn had 
 been garnered and stored for the time when the north- 
 wind should strip the forest of its foliage, seal up the 
 rivers, and hide the warm earth under a blanket of 
 snow. 
 
 Preparations were being made in the village for 
 the annual buffalo-hunt, one of the important events 
 of the year. The meat of this noble animal supplied 
 the people with food during the long winter months 
 when there was but little hunting and game was scarce, 
 and its hairy skin gave them clothing and covering for 
 the tepees. To win the favor of the Spirit of the 
 Chase, a feast of burnt meats and the incense of 
 tobacco celebrated the departure of the hunters. 
 
 When the fire had been lighted on the Common 
 Ground and the meats were ready, Wahwun, the 
 medicine-man, as was the tribal custom, addressed 
 the hunters. 

 
 42 A Child of the Sun 
 
 "Listen, O sons of Arctides!" said Wahwun. 
 " Harken to me, Children of the Sun. Wahwun has 
 hidden himself for hours in the lodge of the Metas, 
 that he might hear the good voices. 
 
 "Would you meet with success in the chase? List 
 then what the Manitos tell you. Four sleeps to the 
 west you must go, and when you have come to a river, 
 let one who is chosen to lead you be dressed in the 
 hide of Pezheke. With the buffalo-skin entire let the 
 chosen one cover his figure. Laying then your ears 
 to the ground you shall hear the rumble of hoof-beats. 
 A herd like the leaves of the wood will come to the 
 hands of the hunters. 
 
 " Go then, with your spears and arrows, in search 
 of food for your people. 
 
 " It is not an adventure for women, for children, for 
 old men, or weak- ones. In the van of great herds, 
 ever ready for battle, walks the guardian buffalo bull. 
 Sharp are his black, shining horns, and heavy his deep- 
 set shoulders. Thick and long is his mane, covering 
 his neck in profusion. Fierce is the light of his eye 
 and his voice is the voice of the thunder. Where he 
 runs the earth trembles and dust rolls up like the 
 storm. 
 
 " Then must the chosen one wait, all patiently bid- 
 ing the moment, wait in the tall, rank grass, close to 
 the cliff by the river. 
 
 "All of the hunters remaining, losing no time in
 
 THE HUNTER SPRINGING ASIDE TO THE ROCK.
 
 The Buffalo-Dance 43 
 
 their going, let them make haste to the rear of the 
 herd that is coming toward you. 
 
 " Everything having been done, as the voice of the 
 Manitos orders, let him who is clad in the skin lift up 
 his head from the grasses. Seeing him thus shall the 
 bull believe him Pezheke, his brother. So may the 
 chosen one lead the herd with a rush toward the river. 
 
 "Then will the buffalo bull, calling his herd that 
 comes after, follow the hunter disguised, swift toward 
 the cliff by the river. Up to the top of the cliff return- 
 ing the hunter shall lead them. 
 
 "Then the hunter springing aside to the rock that 
 stands like a shelter, to the stone as large as a tepee 
 that stands on the cliff by the river, the bull with his 
 herd shall plunge down, and we shall have meat in 
 abundance." 
 
 When Wahwun had concluded his address a mo- 
 mentary hush fell on the people. His strange power 
 of foretelling events gave to his words a meaning sec- 
 ond only to those of Minno, and the hunters felt cer- 
 tain all would come about just as he predicted. 
 
 The novelty of the plan also had its attractions, 
 and ambitious young hunters were already itching to 
 be chosen to play the part of the decoy buffalo. 
 
 "How will you choose your leader?" questioned 
 Pakablingge, who as the oldest warrior was generally 
 judge of the games. 
 
 " Let it be Wanahta!" cried half a dozen voices.
 
 44 A Child of the Sun 
 
 "Why not Panaqui?" roared Tioma, the story- 
 teller, who had not forgiven the Crooked One's 
 sneering reference to the bluejay. 
 
 Meeme, the Pigeon, casting her roguish eyes at 
 Wanahta, said laughingly, "Why not Tioma himself? 
 No one could so easily deceive the buffalo. Give him 
 but the horns and mane, and where will you find so 
 excellent a Jaba?" 
 
 "Tioma! Tioma! " shrieked the children, dancing 
 around the story-teller. " He fears not the precipice! 
 He plunges headlong over! We have seen him, we 
 have seen him! Let it be Tioma! Tioma!" 
 
 The anxiety and good-humored raillery were brought 
 to a sudden close by the announcement that the mat- 
 ter would be settled by the game of the javelin. The 
 decision was welcomed with shouts of joy by the hunters, 
 who took the keenest delight in this fascinating sport, 
 and the expert throwers hurried away to select their 
 choicest weapons for the tournament. 
 
 The Common Ground was cleared and the villagers, 
 old and young, forming a circle around its extreme 
 'outer edge, prepared to shout approval or disapproval 
 as the game progressed. 
 
 Meanwhile Shangadaya was instructed to prepare 
 the disguise that Wahwun had described, so that the 
 victor, whoever he might be, could wear it in the 
 dance which would follow immediately on the con- 
 clusion of the game.
 
 The Buffalo-Dance 45 
 
 The javelins were slender instruments of ironwood, 
 five or six feet long, and about three-quarters of an 
 inch in diameter, sharpened at one end. 
 
 The mark at which the javelins were cast was a 
 ring about eight inches through, made of split hickory 
 withes bound with rawhide. This ring was thrown 
 with great force from one end of the ground, so that 
 it rolled swiftly across the arena. He whose turn it 
 was to try his fortune would then hurl his javelin at 
 the hoop whilst it was in motion. The player who suc- 
 ceeded in ringing the most javelins was declared the 
 victor. The game was a great favorite among the 
 Arctides, and every youth was more or less proficient 
 in it. 
 
 Pakablingge finally declared everything ready for 
 the contest, and Panaqui, who had been assigned to 
 throw the ring, took his place at the outer edge of the 
 Common Ground, ten lengths of a deerskin from the 
 javelin-throwers. 
 
 A dozen or more contestants entered the lists, but 
 as the game progressed these narrowed down to three, 
 and at last only two were left, a stout young brave, 
 Choolu the Little Fox, and Wanahta. 
 
 After a short consultation it was decided to allow 
 three javelins apiece in the final test. Two of the 
 throws were to be made with the javelin held in the 
 center and thrown with the hand raised above the 
 shoulder.
 
 4 6 A Child of the Sun 
 
 But the third throw, if a third should be required, 
 was to be the most difficult one of the game. In this 
 throw the javelin was held by placing the forefinger 
 against the end of the instrument, supporting it with 
 the thumb and second finger. From this position it 
 was hurled horizontally at the speeding circle. 
 
 The sun was now well toward the end of his daily 
 journey, and Little Fox and Wanahta took their 
 positions on the western edge of the Common Ground, 
 that the rays might not dazzle their eyes. 
 
 The Crooked One, standing to the north the proper 
 distance from the spearsmen, awaited the signal to 
 let fly the hoop. 
 
 Little Fox threw first, and his javelin caught its 
 point in the speeding ring and held it fast. His friends 
 applauded; but when Wanahta stepped forward and 
 raised his hand to signal that he was ready there was 
 a respectful silence. For a moment the sinewy arm 
 of Wanahta held the slender spear above his head; 
 then as the little wheel came whirling across the 
 arena, the throw was made. But Wanahta had mis- 
 calculated the time by half a second, and the point of 
 his spear struck the forward edge of the hoop, and spear 
 and wheel fell in a little cloud of dust, several feet apart. 
 
 A great sigh went up from the crowd, for Wanahta 
 was a favorite with the Arctides, and Meeme turned 
 her face away to hide the tears of disappointment in 
 her eyes.
 
 The Buffalo-Dance 47 
 
 The second throw of Little Fox was less successful, 
 his javelin going over the ring and striking nearly 
 at the feet of those at the opposite side of the 
 ground. 
 
 Wanahta was more fortunate, his second javelin 
 catching the inside edge of the wheel and ringing it 
 safely. 
 
 The contestants were now on an equal footing for 
 the most difficult test, and excitement became intense; 
 the friends of both Little Fox and Wanahta pressing 
 forward, silent and watchful. 
 
 Little Fox stepped out briskly for his final throw, 
 and poising his javelin carefully, gave the signal that 
 he was ready. 
 
 As the ring shot past him he let fly the javelin, and 
 the wheel and spear fell together in the center of the 
 arena. 
 
 The crowd shouted in admiration of the throw, and 
 the friends of Little Fox, feeling sure that he had 
 won, waited impatiently for Pakablingge to come for- 
 ward and examine the instruments. But when the 
 warrior lifted up the slender spear which lay across 
 the ring, without disturbing the ring itself in the 
 least, a hush fell upon the assembly, for the people 
 knew the throw of Little Fox had failed. 
 
 Wanahta selected for his final throw a slender shaft 
 fully six feet long, oiled and rubbed until it shone like 
 a bone in the desert. Thrice he poised it high above
 
 4 8 A Child of the Sun 
 
 his head, holding it firm and straight by the extreme 
 end. Thrice he lowered it, measuring the distance 
 with a practiced eye. Then he gave the signal and 
 the ring sped from the hand of Panaqui. Like a 
 frightened bird it flew across the arena, and straight 
 as a ray of sunlight shot the javelin to meet it. There 
 were the staccato sounds of hardwood meeting hard- 
 wood, a tiny puff of dust, and the spear stood quiver- 
 ing in the earth, the ring trembling about it. 
 
 Then indeed the people leaped and danced and 
 shouted for joy. Wanahta had set a mark for the 
 most skillful thrower in the game. No need for the 
 judges here every one might see for himself; and the 
 victorious contestant was immediately the center of an 
 admiring throng of men, women, and children. 
 
 Quickly Meeme brought the skin of the buffalo 
 that Shangadaya had prepared and laid it over the 
 shoulders of the victor. She bound the skin securely 
 about Wanahta's neck and under his arms, with the 
 head of the bull covering the head of the hunter, giv- 
 ing him the fierce likeness of the animal itself. 
 
 After Meeme had bound the thongs of the buffalo- 
 hide firmly about the body of the victorious javelin- 
 thrower, unseen by the rest of the band she gave to 
 Wanahta the feather of a white pigeon that during 
 the contest she had worn in the bosom of her dress. 
 
 As Wanahta's fingers closed on the delicate feather, 
 he pressed the hand of the fair giver softly, and
 
 The Buffalo-Dance 49 
 
 Meeme, frightened at her boldness, dropped her shin- 
 ing eyes till their lashes swept her burning cheeks, and 
 slipped quickly away into the crowd. 
 
 In another moment Wanahta had sprung to the 
 center of the Common Ground and shouted a challenge 
 to the surrounding braves. The hunters instantly took 
 up the cry, and armed with tomahawks, war-clubs, and 
 spears, began dancing and circling around the victor 
 in imitation of the chase. 
 
 Wanahta led the dancers, and all together they sang 
 the song of the buffalo-hunt, a wild, weird chant of 
 pleading and exultation combined, accompanied by the 
 beating of the war-drums and the shaking of number- 
 less rattles. One after another the villagers joined in 
 the festival, the women gliding gracefully about the 
 throng of dancers, keeping time with feet and bodies 
 to the rhythmic measure of the song.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE PIASAU 
 
 The hunters gone, the village became once more a 
 scene of homely quiet. The women sewed on the skins 
 they were cleverly fashioning into robes for themselves 
 or their husbands, rocked the cradles of their children, 
 and rubbed to softness the newly tanned hides between 
 bits of fine-grained stones. 
 
 The girls busied themselves weaving baskets, the 
 wild plum baskets and the carrying baskets, and also 
 the meal-bowl and the water-bottle. The old men 
 molded pots and gourds of clay of great endurance, 
 and wrought cunningly upon them, in soft colors, pic- 
 tures of fishes and birds. 
 
 The children gathered nuts in the forest, fished in 
 the smaller streams that emptied into the Long River, 
 ran races on the billowy prairie, or shot their arrows 
 at targets on the Common Ground. 
 
 The growing boys talked boastingly of the future, 
 when they too should join in the hunt, or become power- 
 ful warriors and wise chieftains, leading their tribe in 
 action, instead of only running races across the prairie 
 and shooting their arrows in the sun. 
 
 50
 
 The Piasau 51 
 
 At evening they gathered in eager groups around 
 Tioma, who told them wonderful adventures that had 
 befallen in the war and in the chase. When they 
 wearied of his stories he related the deeds of Strong- 
 heart, who so lately had gone from amongst them, 
 recounting his virtues and the acts of fearless heroism 
 that he had performed. The boys never tired of this, 
 and longed to imitate the departed chieftain. 
 
 And all the people lamented Strongheart, and 
 mourned because he had left no son to carry forward 
 his work of killing the Piasau. 
 
 Minno was now rarely seen about the village. 
 Since Strongheart's death he had remained almost 
 constantly in the forest, walking alone. The loss of 
 his son, of whom he had hoped so much for his peo- 
 ple, was a blow to the aged prophet, and the lines of 
 sorrow deepened in his face as time wore on. 
 
 Fatalities attributed to the evil influence of Piasau 
 were appearing constantly. The dead bodies of young 
 men who had gone forth in perfect health and the 
 strength of manhood were often found, lying face 
 downward on the velvety turf of the forest, but with 
 no mark of a weapon upon them. Fear sat like a king 
 in the staring eyeballs, and the muscles of the face 
 seemed frozen with terror. Bravest of the brave in 
 life, fearless in battle, giants in the hunt, in death their 
 faces told a tale of horror which could have been born 
 only of the sight of the Piasau.
 
 52 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Frequently canoes were caught in the whirlpools 
 of the river, swept with irresistible force to the rapids 
 under the high cliffs, and crushed upon the rocks, while 
 their occupants were sucked into the whirlpool to be 
 lost to the sight of the tribe forever. 
 
 Wahwun, the medicine-man, was always in the 
 medicine lodge now, beating his drums, shaking his 
 rattles, moaning the songs of lamentation, and crying 
 in great distress to his good spirits to send relief to the 
 Arctides. 
 
 Sometimes his voice was the droning voice of old 
 age, pleading fitfully for succor; sometimes it swelled 
 in volume, rolling from between his lips in such a 
 mighty sound that the sides of the medicine lodge 
 quivered as though shaken by a storm, while the trees 
 of the wood vibrated with the shock of his supplica- 
 tions, and it seemed the whole forest sent back an 
 answering wail. Then a piercing cold would come upon 
 the listeners, and they would shiver and moan, and 
 the hairs of their heads would crisp with fear. 
 
 This would be followed by long silences, in which 
 the listeners feared that Wahwun too had been stricken 
 dead, but suddenly his voice would be raised again, 
 louder, more weird than before, and the villagers, 
 catching up the refrain, would send the song into the 
 forest, where it echoed and reechoed until the world 
 seemed filled with it.
 
 The Piasau 53 
 
 In vain did the tribe pray for the triumphant notes 
 that should proclaim the pacification of the evil spirit, 
 but the song that might promise relief the medicine- 
 man never uttered. 
 
 Yet however great their disappointment, the peo- 
 ple never for a moment lost faith in Minno. To him 
 alone the Children of the Sun now looked to free them 
 from the curse of the dreaded Piasau. 
 
 In all the years since as a boy he had first communed 
 with the Manitos he had never failed to advise them 
 wisely. Implicitly they trusted in his judgment and 
 waited for him to speak. 
 
 The kindly prophet had changed greatly during 
 the last moon. From the day they had brought the 
 slain Strongheart home, Minno had seldom spoken. 
 All his hopes and desires had gone out to his brave, 
 handsome son, and now that he had been taken from 
 him the father was almost given over to despair. 
 
 Day after day, so long that the hearts of the tribe 
 grew heavy with longing for a sight of his face, did 
 Minno hide himself in the deeps of the forest, listening 
 for the voice of the Great Spirit, that should bring 
 words of hope for the unhappy Arctides. 
 
 But the voice was silent, and after each fast, more 
 sorrowful and more dejected than ever, Minno returned 
 to his people. 
 
 But one day, soon after the buffalo-hunters had
 
 54 A Child of the Sun 
 
 departed, Minno appeared in the village with the light 
 of hope rekindled in his kindly eyes. He carried his 
 head erect, and trod with the springy step of youth. 
 As he neared the tepees Minno stopped to talk pleas- 
 antly with the women. He laughed with the children 
 at their play. A smile dwelt upon his lips, and a glad, 
 holy light was in his great dark eyes. 
 
 The prophet halted as he reached the lodge of 
 Pakoble, the widow of Strongheart. When she came 
 out to greet him, Minno tenderly embraced her, noting 
 meanwhile, with the love of a tender parent, the 
 beautiful soul that shone in her lustrous eyes. 
 
 " Minno is much rejoiced to-day, is it not so, father 
 of my beloved?" said Pakoble, standing reverently 
 before the prophet and bending her head to touch 
 with her lips the hand she had taken between her own 
 soft palms. 
 
 "The voice of the Great Spirit has deigned to 
 bring'good tidings to Minno," said the reverent prophet. 
 " Minno has had good dreams. There is a glorious 
 song in his soul. He rejoices in the future of the 
 Children of the Sun. The voice in the forest spoke 
 words of comfort and hope to Minno, and the Children 
 of the Sun are soon to be greatly blessed. Not for 
 long shall the Piasau triumph. Be patient, Pakoble, 
 my daughter; thy heart too shall be glad." 
 
 Minno then turned away, and going to the Council 
 Chamber, stood for a long time before the Altar of
 
 The Piasau 55 
 
 Hasihta, and gazed with hopeful eyes upon the copper 
 case that held the Sacred Arrow. 
 
 And suddenly the soul of Pakoble was filled as with 
 a great illumination, and she bowed her head as wait- 
 ing for a divine benediction.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE BIRD OF BEAUTIFUL PLUMAGE 
 
 The moon, a perfect disk, rose slowly above the 
 brown line of the distant hills, sent its mellow light 
 over the rolling prairie country, threw a silver bridge 
 across the Long River, and rested lovingly upon the 
 Indian village sleeping softly on the hillside. 
 
 Shangadaya, the Old One, limping down from the 
 summit of the hill, stopped suddenly and stood still, 
 listening, with head thrust forward between her bent 
 shoulders, her yellow-gray locks falling about her 
 shriveled face. So standing, with her skinny hands 
 clutching her staff, she seemed some alien from a world 
 afar. 
 
 Deep in the wood, the whip-poor-will called plain- 
 tively. Across the river, a lone wolf sent to the stars 
 his defiant challenge. Thejiver flung itself musically 
 against the base of the Piasau cliff. Wondrous noises 
 of the forest-night, half-formed sounds, nameless and 
 soulful, portents of mystery! 
 
 "Has the ear of the Ojibwa turned traitor, that it 
 tells lies?" muttered the Old One. "Surely, someone 
 called Shangadaya." 
 
 56
 
 SHANGADAYA PUT OUT ONE OF HER SHRIVELED HANDS 
 AND DREW THE CROOKED ONE CLOSE TO HER SIDE.
 
 The Bird of Beautiful Plumage 57 
 
 "Your ears are not liars, wise mother," said a shrill 
 voice behind her. " Panaqui has been waiting for you, 
 wishing for you since the sunset." 
 
 Without taking her eyes from the distant village, 
 Shangadaya put out one of her shriveled, knotty hands, 
 and drawing the Crooked One close to her side, mut- 
 tered hoarsely: 
 
 " Does Panaqui know what is in the heart of Shan- 
 gadaya?" 
 
 "Panaqui knows well," replied the dwarf, his small 
 eyes a-glitter and his receding chin trembling repul- 
 sively; "for his own heart is full of hatred for the 
 Arctides." 
 
 The Old One's fingers patted the hairy arm of her 
 son affectionately,, but her eyes now sought the fire 
 that, burning on the Altar of Hasihta, cast a flickering 
 light on the Guardian Pine standing near the door of 
 the Council Chamber. 
 
 " Listen, my son. Shangadaya has been all day in 
 the lodge of the Metas, and they have told her sweet 
 secrets." 
 
 " I am sure of it, wise mother. Was it of the 
 Arrow of the Sun they spoke ?" 
 
 " Panaqui has the gift of his mother for discerning," 
 croaked the Old One. " It was of the Arrow." 
 
 " And the secret of obtaining it, mother; did they 
 tell you that?" The dwarf drew nearer as he spoke, 
 and peered eagerly into the face of the witch.
 
 58 A ^Child of the Sun 
 
 " If Panaqui would open the casket of copper which 
 holds the hope of Arctides, let him listen. It has been 
 proclaimed that if one of the blood of the beaver 
 totem stand before the Altar of Hasihta at high 
 noon and whisper the word with which the Great 
 Spirit sealed up this casket, the copper case will 
 open." 
 
 "So have I heard it announced at the feasts ever 
 since I was born," growled the dwarf. 
 
 " Panaqui is the son of Shangadaya, the Ojibwa 
 captive?" 
 
 "Yes, mother," replied the Crooked One, impatient 
 to know the conclusion. 
 
 " But his father was of the Arctides, of the totem 
 of the beaver, even a brother of Minno. If Panaqui 
 had the word he might make good use of it." 
 
 "And you have found the word, wise mother?" 
 
 "The Metas have been good to Shangadaya and 
 have repaid her for her fastings." 
 
 " The word, wise mother give it to Panaqui, that 
 he may destroy the Arrow." 
 
 The Old One stooped till her withered lips touched 
 the cheek of the dwarf, and whispered 
 
 Panaqui started as if he had been stung and raised 
 his long, hairy arms as if to ward off a blow. 
 
 " Is the son of Shangadaya a coward, that he fears 
 the sound of a word?" cried the Old One, fiercely 
 clutching her staff.
 
 The Bird of Beautiful Plumage 59 
 
 " Panaqui will have the Arrow," doggedly muttered 
 the Crooked One. "The Arrow! The Arrow!" 
 
 "Brave boy! noble boy!" crooned the Old One, 
 running her bony fingers lightly over the head of 
 Panaqui. " The Arctides looked for one of the blood 
 of Minno to destroy the Piasau. Minno has had good 
 dreams of late, and the signs are auspicious. Should 
 a son be born to Pakoble the Arrow must not wait in 
 the casket till he is strong enough to draw a bowstring. 
 Shangadaya has been kept for years from her people. 
 She has been deceived, betrayed. Was it not Pakoble 
 who said to Panaqui, 'Remember'?" 
 
 "An Ojibwa never forgets or forgives a wrong," 
 hoarsely whispered the dwarf. " When the sun stands 
 unclouded at the zenith the word Good night, 
 wise mother. Panaqui will remember." 
 
 The Old One, crouching over her staff, watched 
 the retreating figure of the dwarf until it disappeared 
 in the shadows, and then bent her steps to where a 
 torch burning in one of the larger tepees, near the 
 center of the village, threw a feeble gleam of light 
 through the door. As she walked, Shangadaya crooned 
 to herself in a low, harsh voice an Ojibwa cradle-song. 
 The light was from the tepee of Pakoble, which the Old 
 One entered, dropping the curtains of skins behind her. 
 
 Higher and higher climbed the moon, until it stood 
 squarely in the heavens. Then, suddenly, out of the 
 southern sky a star shot earthward, leaving behind its
 
 60 A Child of the Sun 
 
 trail of luminous light. Straight toward the village 
 came the star, and as it passed over the lodge where 
 the torch glowed dimly, the star was a star no more, 
 but a Bird of Beautiful Plumage. 
 
 Three times the bird circled above the lodge, and 
 then, alighting upon it, began calling in a sweet, clear 
 voice: 
 
 "Minno! Minno! the Good!" 
 
 Minno came from his lodge, and going a short 
 distance in the direction of the voice, said calmly: 
 
 "Minno is here; who calls him?" 
 
 "Is the prophet of Arctides asleep, that he can- 
 not see?" sang the bird. 
 
 Then Minno looked and saw the Bird of Beautiful 
 Plumage sitting on the pole above the wigwam of 
 Pakoble. And his heart was glad, for he knew the 
 bird to be a messenger of Gitche Manito, the Great 
 Spirit, bringing good words to his people. 
 
 "You know, Minno," continued the bird, "that for 
 many generations a fierce monster has lain in wait to 
 destroy the people of the tribe of Arctides." 
 
 "I know; it is the Great Piasau," replied Minno, 
 solemnly. " Minno has looked upon the Bird of 
 Evil." 
 
 "And because he has obeyed the voice of the Great 
 Spirit, fasting and walking alone in the forest, he lives. 
 The Piasau was powerless to harm him. Know then 
 that the time is come for the fulfillment of the proph-
 
 The Bird of Beautiful Plumage 61 
 
 ecy, that a child of your blood should be born to 
 destroy the evil." 
 
 " Long have we waited," said Minno. " But half a 
 moon ago, while Minno slept in the forest, he was told 
 that the first child of his blood, to be born when the 
 moon stood fair and full above the Sacred Spring, 
 should be gifted with power to destroy the monster." 
 
 "To-night the moon is fair and full above the 
 Sacred Spring," replied the bird, "and now, even now, 
 a child, a man-child, has been born to Pakoble, the 
 Rose. He shall be called Waupello, a Child of the Sun, 
 and by his hand shall fall the Piasau. Hasten then, 
 Minno, to tell the Arctides, that they may make a 
 great feast to Gitche Manito, the Merciful Father, 
 proving their gratitude to him." 
 
 While Minno stood wrapped in contemplation of 
 this great blessing, the bird ceased its song, and rising 
 high in the air, circled three times again above the 
 lodge of Pakoble. Then, flying - straight into the 
 upper air, it was lost in the hollow depths of the sky. 
 
 A moment only Minno stood, gazing in wonder 
 after the beautiful messenger. Then he hastened joy- 
 fully to the lodge of Pakoble to look upon the child.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE COUNCIL 
 
 When it became known in the village that a son 
 had been born to Pakoble in accordance with the 
 prophecy of Minno, the people were exultant, and a 
 great feast to Gitche Manito, the Merciful, was pro- 
 claimed that should continue for twelve days. Run- 
 ners bearing painted quills, to summon the leading 
 chiefs to Council, were sent to the other villagers of 
 the tribe of the Arctides. 
 
 Fires of rejoicing were lighted on all the watch- 
 towers, and pure tobacco scattered to the flames, so 
 that for miles along the river spiral columns of incense 
 ascended continually to heaven, bearing the prayers of 
 the people. 
 
 When the chiefs were assembled, they seated them- 
 selves about the Council fire to smoke the Calumet as 
 an offering to the good spirits before they proceeded 
 with their deliberations. 
 
 Each chief, as the pipe passed into his hands, 
 placed it between his lips, drawing deeply upon the 
 red stem, puffing the smoke to the earth on either side 
 in honor of the dead, and three times toward the 
 
 62
 
 RISING TO HIS FEET MINNO DREW HIS ROBE OF DEER 
 SKIN CLOSELY ABOUT HIM.
 
 The Council 63 
 
 heavens in token of their love of Gitche Manito, the 
 Father of All. When each had smoked in his turn, 
 they bent their eyes upon Minno, waiting in silence 
 until he could speak. 
 
 Rising to his feet, Minno drew his robe of deer- 
 skin closely about him, and standing thus arrayed in 
 the rich garments of the prophet, spoke as follows: 
 
 "Children of the Great Spirit, Minno has invited 
 you to sit in Council that he may make known to you 
 something that shall cause your hearts to sing like the 
 stream in the Leaf Moon. 
 
 "When Minno was yet a youth, preparing to go 
 forth to the battle for the first time, he blackened his 
 face for the vigil; taking the mat of rushes, the mat 
 his mother had woven, he went to the forest to fast 
 as the tribe has prescribed for the warriors. Greatly 
 he longed to hear the voice of the Merciful Spirit tell- 
 ing him he should become a chieftain, leading his peo- 
 ple in battle. Like a young ash were his limbs, and 
 light his step, like the step of the panther. 
 
 " He longed to go at the head of a company of 
 young braves, destroying the foes of Arctides, think- 
 ing, as do the young, of the scalps that should hang 
 from his war-belt. 
 
 " But while he lay asleep on his mat in the heart of 
 the forest, he saw in his dream, while the stars hung 
 thick in the heavens, a Bird of Beautiful Plumage, a 
 bird with a voice like sweet music.
 
 6 4 A Child of the Sun 
 
 "And the Bird of Beautiful Plumage said to the young 
 man Minno: 'Not for you is the glory of war and the 
 fierce joy of chasing the buffalo. Go back to the vil- 
 lage, to those who await your returning. Wash in the 
 cool blue river the black paint from your eyelids, 
 washing it too from your lips and your cheeks and 
 the temples above them. 
 
 "'Put from your min: 1 all thought of glory in war 
 or in hunting, and when the moon is once more a slen- 
 der bow in the heavens, go to the foot of the cliff, the 
 cliff that runs up from the valley, and there by the 
 Sacred Spring bury deep your bows and your arrows; 
 bury your tomahawk too, and your war-spear likewise 
 you must bury. 
 
 "'I, the Great Spirit, have chosen that you shall 
 fast and walk alone in the forest. Quick shall your 
 ears be to hear the voice of the good Manitos, so that 
 you may prove to be strong and wise in the Council/ 
 
 " Finished the Spirit his speaking, and Minno went 
 back to his wigwam, washed from his face the paint, 
 the black paint of the faster; and when the slender 
 moon a pale crescent shone in the heavens, took he 
 his bows and arrows, took he his spear and his paddle, 
 also his tomahawk took he, and buried them deep in 
 the earth. 
 
 " Now for many moons has he wrought the will of 
 the Father of all the Arctides. 
 
 "Once my people were many, brave and patient
 
 The Council 65 
 
 have they always been. And now when the limbs of 
 Minno shake like the reed in the storm, when his eyes 
 no more can behold unshaded the sun, the Great Spirit 
 has deigned to bless his people. A child of the blood 
 of Minno is born to destroy the Piasau, 
 
 "Last night, as the Spirit had promised, while 
 the fair moon hung in the heavens full over the Sacred 
 Waters, a child was born to Pakoble, and lay in the 
 arms of the mother, a man-child of the blood of 
 Minno. 
 
 "When first the babe drew breath, out of the blue 
 dome of heaven shot a silver star, straight to Pakoble's 
 lodge-pole, and as it neared the earth the star, changing 
 quickly, came as a bird with wings, a bird of beau- 
 tiful plumage. 
 
 "Called to me as it came, singing, 'Minno, come 
 forth from thy lodge, for a son has been born to Pako- 
 ble. Wise shall he be, and like the wind of the south 
 in the seedtime, strong, gentle, and kind, driving away 
 evil and bringing good to his people.' 
 
 " Hence have I called you together, that you might 
 join in the feast that the joyful now are preparing, a 
 feast to the Merciful One for this, the greatest of 
 blessings." 
 
 When Minno had concluded, the Calumet was again 
 passed from one to the other of the chiefs, that they 
 might offer up incense to the Great Spirit for his good- 
 ness. Then, one after another, they arose solemnly,
 
 66 A Child of the Sun 
 
 and going to the lodge of Pakoble, each in turn laid 
 before the door of her tepee his finest arrows, his 
 softest furs, and his most beautiful feathers. 
 
 Having given their offerings, they returned to the 
 Council Chamber, while the preparations were making 
 for the great feast to Gitche Manito, Father of All.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 FEAST OF WAUPELLO, THE FIRSTBORN 
 
 The black frost had fallen and the brown grass on 
 the prairie spread a thick blanket over the earth. The 
 streams were fringed with thin layers of ice, delicately 
 figured and starred. The grouse were grown, and 
 assembled in numberless flocks for their better protec- 
 tion against the approaching winter. The feathered 
 tribes, from the great sand-hill cranes to the tiniest 
 song-birds, were migrating southward. All day long 
 the air was filled with the cronk of geese, the calling 
 of mallards, and the whirring of pigeons. Thousands 
 of blackbirds, resting from their flight, rang their 
 silver chimes in the treetops. 
 
 The feast of thanksgiving had reached the seventh 
 day, when a new chord was added to the great chorus 
 of nature. It was the braves returning from the 
 buffalo-hunt, chanting the Song of Success. Long 
 before they could be seen the melody of their song 
 was borne on the clear frosty air to the ears of the 
 glad Arctides. 
 
 As the hunters came nearer, the people, listening 
 for the words, heard them jubilantly chanting the 
 
 prowess of Wanahta: 
 
 67
 
 68 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Hark ye the Song of the Hunters! 
 The song of the hunters returning, 
 Singing the gallant Wanahta, 
 Wanahta, the greatest of hunters. 
 Fearlessly faced he Pezheke, 
 The Jaba Pezheke, he slew him, 
 With his bow of the singing white cedar 
 And his arrow flint-pointed he slew him, 
 The Bull, the Jaba Pezheke. 
 
 Like a shaft from the sky sped his arrow, 
 Like a shaft from the bow of the Thunder; 
 To the feather it sank in the Jaba, 
 To the very tip-end of the feather. 
 And the Jaba Pezheke rolled over, 
 Rolled dead at the feet of Wanahta; 
 With a roar like the fall of the pine-tree, 
 The Jaba Pezheke fell dying; 
 Hence chant we the praise of Wanahta. 
 
 Hark ye the Song of the Hunters! 
 Ye of the tribe of Arctides. 
 Meat ye shall have for the winter, 
 Meat and the robes of Pezheke. 
 Build ye the fires for the feasting, 
 Bring forth the drums and the rattles. 
 Daughters of all the Arctides, 
 Brighten your eyes for the hunters, 
 Join in the praise of Wanahta.
 
 Feast of Waupello, the Firstborn 69 
 
 Full, mellow, and strong came the song, and out 
 toward the meadows hurried the people, running joy- 
 fully to meet the hunters. But another joy than that 
 of the chase was in their hearts and another song on 
 their lips. And back over the crisp brown grass went 
 the glad triumphant chant of the glad ones, the Song 
 of Waupello: 
 
 Hark ye, O hunters returning! 
 
 Hark ye, O fearless Wanahta! 
 
 Shout for the son of Pakoble, 
 
 Shout for Waupello, the firstborn. 
 
 Blessed by the star out of heaven, 
 
 Bird of the Beautiful Plumage, 
 
 Telling to Minno, the prophet, 
 
 Telling to Minno, our father, 
 
 The son of Pakoble, Waupello, 
 
 Was born to destroy the Piasau, 
 
 The monster of evil, Piasau. 
 
 Haste ye, O hunters returning! 
 
 Haste ye with meat of Pezheke; 
 
 Cast to the fires of the altar 
 
 Bodies entire of Pezheke, 
 
 That the smell of the meat and its burning 
 
 May fill all the heavens above us 
 
 A feast to the Merciful Father, 
 
 Who gave us the son of Pakoble, 
 
 To slay with the wonderful Arrow 
 
 The terror of all the Arctides,
 
 70 A Child of the Sun 
 
 The monster, the bird, the Piasau. 
 Shout! shout! for the little Waupello, 
 Waupello, a Child of the Sun. 
 
 The hunters coming nearer and hearing the song, 
 became dumb with astonishment, thinking because of 
 their strange actions that a sudden madness had seized 
 upon the people; but as they gathered the full meaning 
 of the words, they lost sight of their own success, and 
 rushed forward to join the others in their joyful dem- 
 onstrations. Those who had been commissioned to 
 carry the fruits of the chase threw their burdens to 
 the ground and hurried forward with the others. 
 Quickly all, warriors, hunters, and villagers, returned 
 to the feast, chanting the Song of Waupello. 
 
 When they arrived at the common ground where 
 the feast was being celebrated, Minno arose, and after 
 a simple prayer of thankfulness to the Great Spirit for 
 the safe return of the hunters, and a fresh offering of 
 tobacco to the flames, the braves seated themselves to 
 join in the repast. 
 
 Wanahta, standing a little apart from the others 
 waiting for Minno to assign him a place at the feast, 
 felt a light touch on his arm, and looking down, saw 
 the pretty face of Meeme turned temptingly toward 
 him. Before he could speak, she laid a slender finger 
 to her lips, and then, standing tiptoe, whispered some- 
 thing in the ear of the hero of the hunt.
 
 A RED GLOW SWEPT INTO HIS COPPER-COLORED CHEEKS
 
 Feast of Waupello, the Firstborn 71 
 
 Wanahta started, and a red glow swept into his 
 copper-colored cheeks. 
 
 " Do you think I might?" said the hunter, trem- 
 bling and awkward for once. 
 
 "Come!" cried the Pigeon, giving the big brave's 
 sinewy arm a gentle pinch. " It is only a pretty child 
 and not a great Jaba that you are to look upon. And 
 it is a great favor, I can assure you, for Minno guards 
 his grandson as the light of his eyes." 
 
 "As he should do," replied Wanahta; " for does 
 not the fate of all the Arctides lie in those baby 
 fingers?" 
 
 "I should know that by this time," said Meeme, 
 with a saucy toss of her head. "The Arctides have 
 said and sung nothing else for the last seven days. 
 But he is really a beautiful little fellow," said she, with 
 a sudden change of manner, "and I thought Wanahta 
 would be pleased at the chance to look upon him." 
 
 "So I shall be, Little Pigeon, if you think me 
 worthy," the hunter replied, with a reverent bending of 
 the proud head. 
 
 " For answer Minno caught hold of the Wanahta's 
 hand and started away toward the lodge of Pakoble, 
 glad of the opportunity to see the child whose coming 
 had so lightened the hearts of all his tribe. Wanahta 
 now went willingly enough, and a moment later the two 
 stood within the tepee of Pakoble. 
 
 For a moment the big- sinewy hunter stood with
 
 72 A Child of the Sun 
 
 bowed head beside the couch of rich furs upon which 
 Pakoble was seated with the child in her arms. 
 
 "The Jaba, the buffalo bull that I slew, he shall go 
 entire to the altar, a sacrifice to the Sun," whispered 
 Wanahta; and touching with reverent fingers the deli- 
 cate robe of Waupello, the hunter went softly out of 
 the lodge.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 A CHILD OF THE SUN 
 
 The joy of the Children of the Sun over the birth 
 of the grandson of Minno was so great that nothing 
 else occupied their minds. From moon to moon they 
 made feasts and sacrifices, danced and chanted hymns 
 of thankfulness to the Great Spirit, while the flesh of 
 the white buffalo burned continually on the altar in 
 the Council Chamber. 
 
 Even the fear of Piasau, which for so many gener- 
 ations had filled their hearts, was allayed. The hunt- 
 ers went forth to the chase with new songs of gladness, 
 and returned with chants of triumph, unmixed with 
 doubt or dread. 
 
 The lodge of Pakoble had become the repository 
 of every beautiful shell, or rare stone, or delicate 
 feather that fell under the eyes of the people. Willing 
 hands had enlarged the lodge, cutting for it corner- 
 posts of spicy cedar, and stretching over them the 
 largest elk and buffalo hides, until the home of Little 
 Waupello was nearly as big and imposing as the 
 Council Chamber. 
 
 Eleven months had come and gone since the birth of 
 
 73
 
 74 A Child of the Sun 
 
 the son of Strongheart, and the twelfth moon stood once 
 more full and fair above the Sacred Spring, when again 
 the Bird of Beautiful Plumage came to Pakoble, and said: 
 
 "Pakoble, wife of Strongheart, take the boy and 
 bathe him in the waters of the Sacred Spring, that he 
 may be proof against the weapons of all his enemies, 
 and may know the ways of all the creatures of the 
 forest. Robe him then in the garment of furs, the 
 garment your own hands have fashioned. So shall 
 he grow firm and strong to aim the wonderful Arrow." 
 
 Glad of heart, Pakoble hastened to do the bidding 
 of the Bird of Beautiful Plumage. With the child in 
 her arms, down into the valley, through the soft moon- 
 light, prayerfully went the young mother, chanting 
 meanwhile her love for Waupello, her firstborn. 
 Tender her song, but in it a note of the glory awaiting 
 her child. 
 
 "How beautiful are thy limbs," sang Pakoble, the 
 Rose. " How delicate is thy dusky skin, O Waupello, 
 my firstborn; and thy hair, how it glistens in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 " Thine eyes too, Waupello, are they not deeply 
 luminous, like pools of the river in shadow? When a 
 youth thou art grown, they will shine like the stars of 
 the morning. Strong shall thy hands be, strong as 
 the withes of the white oak, strong to send to the heart 
 of the monster the wonderful Arrow. 
 
 " Happy, thrice happy am I, my Waupello, that you,
 
 "BATHS HIM IN THE WATERS OP THE SACRED SPRING, 
 THAT HE MAY BE PROOF AGAINST THE WEAPONS OP ALL HIS 
 ENEMIES."
 
 A Child of the Sun 75 
 
 my firstborn, are chosen, by the Great Spirit are called 
 to free the land of Piasau." 
 
 Singing thus, Pakoble came to the green borders of 
 the Sacred Spring, and looking up, she saw the Bird 
 of Beautiful Plumage hovering above her and her son 
 in the moonlight. 
 
 Deftly she spread the blanket of doeskin on the 
 greensward, and holding Waupello tenderly above the 
 waters, began again to chant: 
 
 "Gaze upon thyself in the Sacred Waters, Wau- 
 pello, my darling, my firstborn; see how the moon has 
 changed the spring into a bowl of silver. Deep in its 
 brilliant depths lies the Moon's own sister, waiting 
 with willing arms to clasp you close to her bosom." 
 
 As the body of the child touched the water, the 
 Bird of Beautiful Plumage flew out of the sky, and 
 dipping its wings in the Spring, scattered bright drops 
 over the head of the mother. Then it returned to the 
 sky, and Pakoble, wrapping Waupello in the robe of 
 soft furs, the robe her fingers had fashioned, bore him 
 back through the village to her lodge on the moonlit 
 hillside. 
 
 As Waupello increased in years, the story of his 
 destiny spread amongst all the tribes of the broad val- 
 ley. Chiefs and warriors came from distant villages 
 to look upon him and present him with gifts. 
 
 Minno was also an object of great veneration 
 amongst them, for it was to him that the Bird of
 
 76 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Beautiful Plumage had first appeared and told of 
 Waupello's coming. His wisdom in the Council had 
 long been familiar to the chiefs of the different nations, 
 and now that his numerous fasts and great self-denial 
 in laying aside his weapons of war had been so signally 
 rewarded, Minno had acquired a new dignity in the 
 eyes of all the people. 
 
 Many tribes with whom the Arctides were at war 
 believed Minno to be favored by the Evil as well as 
 the Good Spirit; believed that he could summon the 
 storm of snow to o'erwhelm or the Thunder Bird to 
 destroy them, if they came uninvited into the country 
 of the Arctides. 
 
 Although the Piasau was not supposed to trouble 
 any of the Red People who were not of the tribe of 
 Arctides, yet each Indian nation was threatened by 
 some similar monster of earth or air, against which 
 their weapons of war were useless. Even those tribes 
 who hated the Children of the Sun were interested 
 more or less in Waupello. While they had no love for 
 the Arctides as a race, they stood in awe of a child 
 born under such strange auspices, and longed for the 
 time when he should strike the life from the body 
 of the Bird of Evil. 
 
 As for Waupello, he was just a healthy, happy, 
 Indian baby, rolling about on the rush mat in his 
 mother's lodge, shaking his wild-gourd rattle, looking 
 with owlish wisdom out of his big black eyes, or crow-
 
 A Child of the Sun 77 
 
 ing and laughing when one of the chiefs tossed him 
 high in the air or told him wonderful stories which 
 the baby did not in the least comprehend. 
 
 But when Waupello was old enough to understand 
 them, Minno taught him the simpler legends of the 
 tribe and tried gently to impress on the boy's mind 
 the work that his people looked to him to do. 
 
 Waupello grew tall and straight as the arrows that 
 flew from his bow. With his lithe limbs and supple 
 body he outran all the other boys of the village. In 
 their games and sports he was easily the victor; already 
 his playmates had named him Little Chief and offered 
 him a head-dress of partridge-feathers. But he put 
 it quietly upon the head of his smallest playmate, and 
 ran away laughing to his mother. 
 
 Sometimes Minno would take Waupello for long 
 walks in the woods, telling him the names of the birds 
 and animals, the trees and the flowers, the rocks and 
 the streams. 
 
 With much patience, he taught Waupello to dis- 
 tinguish the voices of the good and evil Manitos that 
 inhabited the woods and the hills. 
 
 Waupello grew very fond of the birds and the little 
 animals that frisked about the paths or scampered 
 along the shore of the rivers. Birds and squirrels 
 became his ready companions, and chattered to him in 
 a language he soon learned to understand. But of all 
 his animal friends the beavers were most interest-
 
 78 A Child of the Sun 
 
 ing and instructive. " Be you as wise as a beaver," said 
 Minno to him, "and you may know the number of the 
 stars." And as Waupello grew older and became 
 more familiar with the ways of the beaver, as well as 
 the ways of thought, he saw that his grandfather had 
 spoken truth. 
 
 Thus Waupello, heeding Minno's teachings, rapidly 
 acquired a knowledge of the folklore of the forest; he 
 could soon call all the birds and flowers and fishes by 
 name, and talked with them as he wandered about the 
 glades of the forest or dreamed on the banks of the 
 running stream.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE FAIR CHILD 
 
 Waupello walked alone on the banks of the river 
 one hazy summer afternoon, listening to the voice of 
 the waters, where the hungry waves lapped the low 
 shore that swept in a curving line to the north of the 
 high cliffs, the home of the Great Piasau. 
 
 As Waupello walked along thinking of the many 
 things Minno had told him concerning his people, he 
 wondered if the Bird of Evil were really the cause of the 
 fatalities ascribed to it. His eyes were fixed dreamily 
 on the waters, but he noted neither the changing colors 
 of the Long River nor the music of its flow. His 
 thoughts had flown back to his great ancestor, Hasihta, 
 who, thousands of moons before Waupello was born, 
 had offended the Great Spirit, and brought so much 
 suffering to his people. He thought, too, of the won- 
 derful Arrow in the Council Chamber, the Arrow 
 Minno had told him had never been seen or touched 
 since it was placed in its copper case so long ago. 
 Strange that his fingers were to be the first to take the 
 sacred treasure from its long concealment. How 
 beautiful it must be! What sensations should he feel 
 when he held it in his hands! 
 
 79
 
 8o A Child of the Sun 
 
 His chain of thought was interrupted by the appear- 
 ance of a strange canoe in the river a short distance 
 above him. So suddenly had it swept into his view 
 that Waupello imagined for a moment that he must be 
 dreaming, and running like a deer to the banks of the 
 stream, he gazed with wondering eyes on the queerly 
 shaped boat. The canoe was not like those made by 
 the Arctides, or by any other of the Indian tribes with 
 whom Waupello was familiar. It rode high in the 
 water, and was curved and peaked at bow and stern; 
 but there were no paddles in sight and a bright-colored 
 robe hung over the stern, trailing in the water. 
 
 Seated in the canoe was a little girl, but to Wau- 
 pello's eyes, accustomed only to the Red Children, the 
 little maid's dazzling skin and sun-kissed hair pro- 
 claimed her some creature to be adored and propi- 
 tiated. The girl, seeing the boy on the shore, 
 called anxiously and flung out her arms to him 
 appealingly. 
 
 "The canoe will be crushed in the rapids," thought 
 Waupello, " and the beautiful spirit become the prey 
 of the Piasau." For only a moment he hesitated, then 
 plunging into the river, the boy struck out boldly 
 toward the rapidly drifting canoe. Swifter and swifter 
 grew the current. The canoe, caught in the merciless 
 eddies of the falls, shot with a great lunge toward the 
 middle of the stream. 
 
 Waupello was as much at home in the water as his
 
 The Fair Child 81 
 
 brother, the beaver; none of the other lads in the 
 village could keep pace with him in the swimming 
 races. And now he exercised all his strength and skill 
 in his endeavors to save the strange canoe and its 
 occupant from the rocks. 
 
 Finding he could not overtake the boat, Waupello 
 dived beneath the surface and swam swiftly downstream, 
 thus escaping the hindrance of the waves on the sur- 
 face. For half an arrow's flight he remained under 
 water; when he once more appeared on the surface he 
 was nearly a boat's length ahead of the canoe. Wait- 
 ing till the canoe drifted up to him, Waupello put his 
 shoulder under the side farthest from shore and struck 
 out as best he could for the beach. 
 
 Gradually the canoe approached the right bank of 
 the stream, and at last the prow grated on a bit of 
 shelving beach where the river narrowed to run between 
 the steep cliffs. 
 
 When Waupello had pulled the canoe safely up to 
 the sandy shingle, he turned to look at the child with 
 the fair skin and the beautiful hair. Then he saw that 
 she was not alone. Stretched in the bottom was a 
 man, whose hair and fair skin were a counterpart of 
 the little girl's. But the man's face was thin and 
 drawn, as though he had fasted for a long time. In 
 their deepened sockets the eyes glowed like stars on a 
 frosty night. 
 
 For a moment Waupello was at a loss to know
 
 82 A Child of the Sun 
 
 what to do. He spoke to the girl, but she only shook 
 her head, and the tears, like dewdrops, sprang to her 
 eyes. But when Waupello saw the tears on the cheeks 
 of the girl, he forgot all his fear of her, and putting 
 his arms around her, murmured words of comfort in 
 the language of the Arctides, feeling that since he 
 understood it, she would understand too. 
 
 Waupello had just decided to run to the village for 
 help, when he saw his grandfather walking under the 
 trees but a short distance away. 
 
 He called to Minno, and the old man came quickly 
 toward the river. Waupello rushed half-way to meet 
 him, and told him hurriedly of the strange creatures 
 he had saved from being carried into the heart of the 
 rapids. 
 
 When Minno had looked a moment upon the man 
 in the bottom of the canoe, he said: 
 
 " Run to the village, Waupello, and tell some of 
 the young men to come and assist in carrying the 
 stranger. The fever of the bad Manitos sits in his 
 eyes, and he may not walk. These people have a strange 
 look. Perhaps they come from the good Manitos with 
 a message for the Arctides." 
 
 Waupello sprang away like a deer, scarcely touch- 
 ing the earth with his nimble feet; and while the little 
 girl's eyes still sought him in the open, he was lost in 
 the trees of the forest. 
 
 When Waupello was gone, Minno approached the
 
 The Fair Child 83 
 
 canoe and addressed the stranger in the language of 
 the Arctides. 
 
 "Whence comes the man of the fair skin, and why 
 did he stay his hands from the paddles whilst the canoe 
 was rushing upon the sharp rocks of the rapids?" 
 questioned Minno. 
 
 The stranger made no reply to the prophet's ques- 
 tion, but gazed wildly about, moaning in pain, trying 
 vainly to raise his head from the bottom of the boat. 
 
 The heart of the child, which had at first shrunk in 
 fear at the approach of the tall Indian, felt the kindly 
 pity in his tones, and she held out her little white 
 hands to him. 
 
 " Waubunannung, Star of the Morning!" exclaimed 
 the prophet. 
 
 Never before had he seen so fair a vision, not even 
 in his dreams. To him she seemed like the star come 
 out of the eastern sky, and his lips formed the name 
 naturally as he looked upon her. 
 
 " Waubunannung, Minno gives you welcome to the 
 country of Arctides," said the prophet, in a whisper, 
 as he lifted her from the boat to the beach. 
 
 Quickly Waupello returned with the young braves as 
 Minno had requested. They were greatly excited upon 
 seeing the strangers, with their red-gold hair and fair 
 faces, and the queer-looking craft which had brought 
 them so mysteriously to the shores of the Arctides 
 village.
 
 84 A Child of the Sun 
 
 At a word from Minno, however, the four men, 
 who had been walking slowly round and round the 
 canoe, lifted it carefully to their shoulders and bore it 
 away toward the village. The man in the canoe 
 moaned continually and rolled his head from side to 
 side as if in great pain. 
 
 Minno walked before them, carrying the fair 
 child upon his broad breast and murmuring words of 
 comfort, which, though she did not understand them, 
 carried solace to the poor trembling little heart, and 
 the fair maid dropped her weary head on Minno's 
 shoulder, and put her round young arms trustingly 
 around his bronze throat. 
 
 Beside them ran Waupello, his soft black eyes fixed 
 with wonder and admiration upon the fair face of the 
 little girl. In the sun her hair glinted like spun cop- 
 per, and Waupello longed that he might be the wind 
 that made so free with her tresses, or the shafts of light 
 that, falling between the trees of the forest, played 
 about her lips and eyes. 
 
 "How beautiful she is! " thought Waupello. "Per- 
 haps this is one of the good Manitos Minno has told 
 me so much about. But the good spirits come in 
 dreams to speak to us, and Waupello does not dream. 
 His feet are on the earth, and he runs before the canoe 
 in which the pale stranger lies. When we are come to 
 the village I will speak to the little sister, telling her 
 all my tales, showing her my prettiest arrows. My
 
 The Fair Child 85 
 
 necklace of otter-teeth will I put on her shoulders; 
 then, mayhap, she will tell me why her skin is like the 
 flower of the water lily, and her wonderful hair like 
 the forest leaves when the frost has touched them." 
 
 The winding path the little party were following 
 led by the Sacred Spring, and here Minno paused 
 for a moment. Setting the little girl upon her feet, he 
 took from his deerskin pouch his drinking-cup of woven 
 wire-grass. Dipping it into the cool waters, he pressed 
 the brimming cup to the parched, fever-cracked lips of 
 the man in the canoe. 
 
 The stranger drank greedily, muttering words that 
 fell meaninglessly upon the ears of the Arctides. 
 
 Waupello meanwhile had snatched two leaves from 
 an oak tree that bent above the Spring, and with a motion 
 so dexterous that the eye could scarcely follow his 
 movements, he formed a cup, and filling it with water, 
 held it to the girl's lips. The child drank the cool, 
 sparkling liquid, and then her eyes lingered lovingly 
 on the dainty toy. Little smiles chased themselves 
 from her lips to her eyes, and she shyly offered to 
 return the cup; but Waupello, seeing she was pleased 
 with what he had made, shook his head and put the 
 cup back into her hands. The men took up the canoe 
 again and resumed their way to the village, but the 
 little girl was no longer carried in Minno's arms; hand 
 in hand like friendly playmates, Waupello and the 
 blue-eyed child ran beside the prophet.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE GREAT MYSTERY 
 
 Minno and his party had now reached the village, 
 and the canoe-bearers, at a gesture from the prophet, 
 put down their burden under the guardian pine that 
 stood before the Council Chamber. Instantly they be- 
 came the center of a group of curious onlookers, who 
 plied Minno and Waupello with questions, and pointed 
 excitedly at the strange man, the equally strange canoe, 
 and the beautiful child, who, frightened at so many 
 dark faces, clung to the hand of Waupello. 
 
 Minno, choosing several of the fleetest runners 
 from the group about, gave into the hands of each 
 a painted quill and bade them go quickly to sum- 
 mon the Metas of the different villages. For the 
 unexpected arrival of these pale faces was of great 
 moment to the Arctides, and demanded prompt and 
 wise action. 
 
 Wahwun, the medicine-man, came hurrying from 
 his lodge, and pushing his way through the crowd, 
 looked long upon the man stretched in the bottom of 
 the canoe. 
 
 "He is not of the nations of the Red Men!" de-
 
 The Great Mystery 87 
 
 clared the Meta, looking straight into the eyes of 
 Minno. "Would the father of the Arctides have him 
 live?" 
 
 "Minno would know more of this strange being. 
 His brain is now melting with the fever. Already 
 the Metas have been summoned to come together in 
 Council, that we may decide what is best to be done. 
 Meanwhile let Shangadaya watch over the stranger 
 until the Council is assembled," said Minno. 
 
 The Old One came immediately, and began to 
 make the sick man as comfortable as possible, while 
 Waupello brought to the little girl corn cakes and 
 berries and dainty bits of meat and bade her eat. 
 
 Pakoble too came from her lodge and sat beside 
 the children, occasionally touching gently the bright 
 hair, and gazing with tender mother eyes upon the 
 pretty child. 
 
 " The little white sister is very pretty," said Wau- 
 pello, "but she looks sad; she shall smile." And run- 
 ning to his lodge he brought forth the loveliest shells 
 and the daintiest wampum and the smallest baskets in 
 his collection and flung them at the feet of the little 
 girl. 
 
 "The little white sister is like a day of the Spring 
 Moon," said the mother, lightly brushing the tears 
 from the pale cheeks. " Now it rains, but presently 
 the sun will shine again. Waupello must be patient." 
 
 Pakoble's gentle ways and quiet airs soon won the
 
 88 A Child of the Sun 
 
 confidence of Morning Star, as Minno had called her, 
 and she forgot for the moment her recent griefs and 
 smiled and tried to make these new friends understand 
 her. When Waupello saw her happy again, his own 
 face became radiant, and telling his mother that he 
 was going to show the girl his tepee, he took his new 
 playmate to his own beautiful lodge. 
 
 To the white child this was the most wonderful 
 playhouse in the whole wide world. Here were lovely 
 soft skins and arrows and bows without number, gay 
 pots and bowls and feathers of marvelous birds, end- 
 less strings of wampum, and glittering stones, and 
 everything that the children of the forest most love. 
 The little maid caught sight of a tiny bow and arrow, 
 and instantly Waupello put it into her hands. Then 
 he tried to show her how to shoot it, but she quite sur- 
 prised him by her knowledge of the implement. She 
 shot two or three arrows, and laughed merrily when 
 she saw Waupello running to return them. Then 
 Waupello gave her his spear, but she did not under- 
 stand the use of this instrument, and the boy showed 
 her every trick he knew in the handling of it. 
 
 Meanwhile Shangadaya, sitting beside the boat, 
 spread a shade of cool boughs above the sick man's face, 
 and gave him to drink of a bitter herb tea which she 
 had brewed. 
 
 The Metas had quickly assembled in response to 
 the message of the painted auills, and it was decided
 
 The Great Mystery 89 
 
 that Wahwun should endeavor through the exercise of 
 his power to discover who the strangers were and 
 whence they came. 
 
 The great medicine-man was soon ready for the 
 ordeal, and stripped of every garment save his breech- 
 cloth, that he wore folded tightly about his loins, he 
 threw himself on an immense buffalo-robe stretched on 
 the floor of the medicine lodge. 
 
 First he laid hold of one side of the skin, and folded 
 it over him; then he took hold of the other side, fold- 
 ing it in like manner about his body, leaving only his 
 head uncovered. 
 
 Wahwun then called two of the young braves to 
 take a long cord of braided deer-thongs that lay beside 
 him on the floor of the Council Chamber, and to wind 
 it tightly about his body so that he was completely 
 swathed within the buffalo-skin. Being thus bound, 
 the Meta was taken by the feet and head and lifted 
 into a coffin-shaped inclosure made by driving sticks 
 into the ground. He had not lain long in this position 
 before he began to mutter, and the snake medicine-bag 
 placed at his head to rattle and dance about. Louder, 
 ever louder, grew the mutterings. But now his words 
 were strange to the ears of the listeners. He spoke 
 no longer the language of the Arctides, nor any of the 
 Indian dialects, but a new and foreign tongue. Hav- 
 ing for some time continued in this manner, he raised 
 his voice to its highest pitch, sometimes apparently
 
 90 A Child of the Sun 
 
 raving and sometimes muttering what seemed like 
 prayers, till at last he became so agitated that he fairly 
 foamed at the mouth. 
 
 He remained in this state nearly an hour, with the 
 little group of Metas gathered around him, carefully 
 noting his every motion. 
 
 Suddenly Wahwun sprang to his feet, shaking off 
 his covering as if the bands with which he had been 
 bound were burned asunder. Then in a low, firm voice 
 he addressed the Metas in his own tongue. 
 
 " My brothers," said Wahwun, " the Great Manito 
 has spoken to his servant. He has not indeed told 
 him the names of those who have so suddenly come 
 amongst us, but he has shown him the land from which 
 they came, where there are great tribes of their 
 people. 
 
 " Wahwun saw a beautiful country, where people 
 like him of the strange canoe are many as the trees of 
 the forest. He saw this one go home to his lodge, which 
 was like the cliff yonder. And there he met another 
 Pale Face, and they were both very wroth, and this one 
 struck his brother with a long, thin knife; then when his 
 brother lay dead and all bleeding at his feet, the 
 stranger took his child and ran out of the great wigwam 
 and away to the wide blue water, where was a canoe 
 so large that the whole tribe of Arctides might sit in 
 it. The canoe had white wings like a bird, and 
 brought the man and the little girl far away from the
 
 The Great Mystery 91 
 
 lodge where the bleeding man and a lamenting woman 
 were left behind. At last the canoe in which the 
 stranger and his child and many other people rode 
 touched on another shore, which is like the shore the 
 stranger left, but where no man knew that the stranger 
 had slain his brother. And when they had rested and 
 eaten, the stranger took from a man like himself the 
 canoe you now see. And he gave to the man from 
 whom he took the canoe some bits of bright metal, 
 at which the man who received them greatly rejoiced. 
 
 "Then the stranger put into the canoe the fair 
 child whom Minno has called Morning Star, and he 
 also sat in the canoe, and came over a long blue water 
 to the cold lake that lies to the north. 
 
 " When they had journeyed for two moons, always 
 coming toward the west, the man lifted the canoe from 
 the waters of the lake and brought it across the earth 
 to the Long River, and so was carried to the land of 
 the Arctides, where the eyes of Waupello beheld 
 them. 
 
 " In all the long journey the bad Manitos never left 
 the man who had slain his white brother. They got 
 into his brain and threw him upon his back, so that he 
 might no longer wield the paddle. 
 
 " This is what Wahwun has seen with the eyes the 
 Great Manito gave him. He has spoken." 
 
 The Metas listened intently to the revelations of 
 Wahwun, and immediately going to the Council Cham-
 
 92 A Child of the Sun 
 
 her, seated themselves to smoke the Calumet and 
 deliberate on what the ultimate destiny of the stranger 
 should be. 
 
 In a little while Minno arose and spoke: 
 
 "The Great Spirit has sent the fair-faced stranger 
 to the Arctides. They must give him welcome. The 
 lodge of Minno is ready to receive him. Let him be 
 carried thither. You, who have power to drive away 
 bad spirits from his heart and the fever from his veins, 
 what say you?" 
 
 " Let it be even as Minno has spoken it is a wise 
 thought," said Wahwun. The Metas signified their 
 assent. 
 
 "And the child," Minno continued; "may she not rest 
 in the lodge of Pakoble, who will be to her as a 
 mother?" 
 
 Before the medicine-men could make a sign of 
 approval, there came stealing into the Council Cham- 
 ber a sound so soft, so mellow, so melodious that every 
 man of the assembly bowed his head, thinking it a 
 voice from the spirit world. Plaintively sweet, the 
 music rose and fell on the fragrant summer air. 
 
 The sound was so new and strange that it was sev- 
 eral minutes before even Minno, whose great soul had 
 never known fear, strode from the Council Chamber 
 to seek the cause of it. 
 
 The picture Minno saw as he came from the Coun- 
 cil Chamber into the sunlight was so beautiful and
 
 The Great Mystery 93 
 
 touching that the old prophet stood gazing upon it in 
 silent wonder. 
 
 Upright in the high-peaked canoe sat the fair- 
 haired stranger, holding to his lips a slender tube of 
 dark wood, which discoursed music such as Minno had 
 never heard. The stranger's long, waving hair fell in 
 a sunny mass over his shoulders; two bright-red spots 
 burned like tiny suns on his white cheeks, and his half- 
 closed eyes seemed to look far away into another 
 world. 
 
 Near him stood Waupello and the fair child, their 
 young faces filled with the inexpressible awe born 
 of the Great Mystery. 
 
 Slower and sweeter came the liquid notes; farther 
 and farther the shadowy eyes looked into the soft 
 distance, until, with a little fluttering wave of sound, the 
 instrument fell from the nerveless fingers, the lids 
 dropped over the sad blue eyes, and the stranger from 
 an unknown country was no longer a stranger. He had 
 found the solution of all Mystery in the brotherhood 
 of Death.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A NEW VOICE IN THE WOODS 
 
 The Pale Face was laid to rest in the canoe that 
 had brought him far from the passions and griefs of the 
 world to fall asleep upon the bosom of Nature. With 
 the belief of the Red Men that the departed spirits in the 
 Happy Hunting Grounds would find pleasure in follow- 
 ing the pursuits of earth, Minno was about to place the 
 flute under the cold hand of the stranger. But the fair 
 child, with the intuition of a softer civilization, took the 
 instrument from him and quietly gave it to Waupello. 
 
 The boy's fingers closed eagerly over the ebony 
 tube, and his eyes spoke the gratitude his lips could 
 not utter. 
 
 Nothing he had ever heard or seen had made so 
 deep an impression on Waupello as the tender melody 
 breathed into the slender bit of polished wood by the 
 dying man. His sensitive soul still vibrated with the 
 melancholy harmony, and he was filled with longing to 
 speak his thoughts in the same liquid measure. 
 
 Thus the flute became to him a new voice, with 
 which he hoped some day to utter thoughts that now 
 found no expression. 
 
 94
 
 A New Voice in the Woods 95 
 
 Day after day Waupello stole into the forest, 
 where even the sound of the ceremonial drum in the 
 Council Chamber or the wild song of the hunters could 
 not reach him, and hidden among the leafy shadows, 
 he breathed softly into the precious instrument, hoping 
 to wake again the melody that still echoed in his soul. 
 
 For a long time only broken, fragmentary sounds 
 came, like far-away hints of the tender song. The 
 small bright keys that had answered so readily to the 
 lightest touch of the stranger's white fingers refused 
 the coaxing caresses of Waupello's slender brown ones, 
 and he was often tempted to give up in despair. Then he 
 bethought him to blow into the instrument a message 
 to the winds that moaned and sighed or laughed and 
 sang about him. And when they seemed to listen and 
 understand, calling back to him pretty replies to the 
 message he uttered, his heart gave a great throb of 
 joy, and he threw himself on the ground and thanked 
 the Great Spirit for the gift of the New Voice. 
 
 And so it came about that Waupello through the 
 flute could converse with all things in nature in their 
 own language, and the songs in his heart multiplied 
 daily, and a wondrous love for everything the Great 
 Spirit had created took possession of the boy. 
 
 One day in early Autumn, when the hazy smoke of 
 the Peace Pipe was over all the hills and the forest was 
 hushed with sorrow at the loss of its summer glories, 
 Waupello took his mother to his favorite retreat on a
 
 96 A Child of the Sun 
 
 high bluff overlooking the river, and for the first time 
 played for her the soft minor hymns he had learned 
 from the winds and streams. Pakoble listened, sur- 
 prised and delighted; but as the boy went on, breathing 
 into the instrument softer and more melodious strains, 
 the heart of the mother trembled with exquisite pain, 
 and her eyes filled with sympathetic tears, prompted 
 by a feeling she had never before known. 
 
 " Where did the son of Strongheart learn all these 
 pretty melodies?" said Pakoble, when the boy finally 
 laid the flute aside and turned to meet her approving 
 gaze. 
 
 " From the winds of the sky, dearest mother; they 
 sing to me of many things: of the bright stars they 
 have visited; of far-away hills and valleys where flowers 
 bloom all the year round and the birds never flee at 
 the approach of the frost and the snow; from the 
 river, dear mother, that is singing gladly on its way to 
 the Land of the Sun, where the Red Children are never 
 cold, but may run and play always under trees that 
 reach down to them their sweet juicy fruits where the 
 feet of the people walk always on carpets of flowers." 
 
 "Where is this land, my son?" 
 
 "That has not been told to Waupello. He does 
 not yet understand all the winds and the waters say to 
 him, and the voice of the pretty instrument is not 
 always clear to speak what Waupello would know. But 
 some day, dear mother of my heart, when Waupello
 
 A New Voice in the Woods 97 
 
 has learned to know all the voices of the forest and 
 the wide prairie, and to breathe into the grateful reed 
 what as yet are but shadowy dreams, he will be able to 
 tell you. 
 
 "Sometimes," continued the boy, after a moment's 
 hesitation, "when the voice of the flute is clear, and the 
 South Wind is heavy with fragrance, Waupello hears 
 faintly a voice that bids him rejoice for his people; 
 that one day he may lead them away to the land of 
 perpetual Summer." 
 
 The mother sat silent looking wistfully down the 
 winding vista formed by the Long River. 
 
 Waupello took up the flute again, and looking at it 
 intently for some time, said: 
 
 " And sometimes, mother, the flute seems to tell me 
 of another land far across the big blue water. The 
 white sister we have called Singing Bird, because she 
 is so happy, and has a voice like the bobolink, has told 
 me of it. There are great tepees, with shining walls, 
 and woven robes of many colors, thick and soft, cover- 
 ing the floor. And all the people have fair skins like 
 the white sister, and beautiful cloths and laces for 
 robes, like those of her father." 
 
 "Singing Bird is one of the Arctides now," said 
 Pakoble, and should forget the wicked people who 
 made her father unhappy. With my own hands I have 
 made her robes of the softest skins, and the hunters, 
 who are fond of her, bring her the choicest feathers
 
 98 A Child of the Sun 
 
 from the forest and the prettiest shells from the beach. 
 She loves the Children of the Sun, too, and will be 
 happier if Waupello does not make her think of other 
 things." 
 
 " It is not Waupello, dear mother; it is the flute. 
 If it talks to Singing Bird of those things, what can 
 Waupello do?" 
 
 Pakoble found no answer ready to her son's question. 
 The mother was deeply moved by what the afternoon 
 had shown of her son's nature, and she resolved to 
 repeat the conversation to Minno as soon as she 
 returned to the village. 
 
 The red sun was far down toward the prairie 
 country as they went slowly homeward under the whis- 
 pering boughs. There were tints of purple and yellow 
 in the Indian Summer haze, and the soft sky seemed 
 sinking gently down to caress the fading leaves. 
 
 As Waupello walked along, he breathed into the 
 flute the thoughts inspired by the tender glances of 
 his mother, and the rhythmical flow of the notes awoke 
 a responsive call from the distant whip-poor-wills. 
 
 And so, with hearts full of the tender glory of the 
 autumn, the two came back to the village.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 TIOMA, THE STORY-TELLER 
 
 " Singing Bird! Singing Bird! Come to the forest. 
 The wind is soft in the treetops, and Waupello waits 
 for you." 
 
 " Has Waupello the heart of a quail, that he dare 
 not go alone? Singing Bird has been with the robins 
 and squirrels since the torches were put out in the 
 sky." 
 
 The merry taunt came from the extreme point 
 of a cliff at a little distance to the east overlooking the 
 village. Across the Long River lay the prairie country, 
 stretching away as far as the eye could see in billowy 
 undulations. 
 
 Waupello, half-way up the slope, ran forward until 
 through an opening in the trees he could see the sum- 
 mit of the cliff. Upon a projecting rock far out upon 
 the bluff, stood Singing Bird, outlined against the 
 sky; her red-brown hair blown free, her bare arms 
 shining like ivory in the sun, the girl seemed to the 
 eyes of the Indian boy a good Manito come to speak 
 to him. 
 
 " The Singing Bird has wings to mount up to the 
 
 99
 
 ioo A Child of the Sun 
 
 sky," called the boy, a tremor in his voice, inspired by 
 a fear for the fair child's safety. 
 
 " The mole has weak eyes and hides from the sun 
 in the earth," called back the girl, gayly. " Waupello 
 should bind an arrow-point upon his head that he may 
 burrow with his brother." 
 
 "Waupello has no fear for himself," said the boy, 
 in a low tone, his bronze skin flushing under the banter. 
 
 "Then why does he stay so long in the village, 
 when the winds are fresh and cool on the hilltops? 
 Singing Bird has been out since first the bluejay began 
 scolding her husband, an hour ago." 
 
 " Waupello would have followed the feet of Sing- 
 ing Bird through the wood, but her steps are so light 
 they leave no record on the leaves." 
 
 The courtly speech of the Indian boy was pleasing 
 to the fair child. It sounded like an echo of something 
 she had heard in another life, but which she could 
 never recall. She gazed a moment into the clear and 
 honest eyes of the boy, and then turning suddenly, 
 sprang lightly over the face of the rock to a projection 
 below, and began a descent down the almost perpen- 
 dicular face of the cliff. 
 
 Unheeding the boy's warning call, she continued on 
 her way until she had covered a third of the distance 
 to the beach below. Then halting breathless, she 
 looked up to where the boy stood, like a bronze statue, 
 high above her.
 
 Tioma, the Story-Teller 101 
 
 " Does the son of Strongheart fear to follow the 
 Singing Bird?" she called, tossing her hair in the sun. 
 
 " The son of Strongheart knows not the word fear," 
 answered Waupello, with characteristic pride. " But 
 the rocks are not firm, and a foot heavier than that of 
 Singing Bird might send an avalanche down upon her. 
 When she has reached the shore it will be time to 
 follow." 
 
 With another toss of her pretty head, the girl put 
 out one daintily moccasined foot toward the rock below, 
 but drew it back suddenly, and shrank closely against 
 the cliff, white and trembling, her eyes staring straight 
 before her. 
 
 Coiled on the stones a few feet distant was an 
 enormous yellow rattlesnake. Its ugly flat head was 
 lifted and waved ominously from side to side. The 
 bead-like eyes glittered in the sun, and the red-forked 
 tongue played rapidly out and in between its slightly 
 parted jaws. But more terrifying than all came the 
 sharp, piercing rattle that the girl well knew preceded 
 the poisonous blow. 
 
 With eyes riveted on the snake, Singing Bird stood 
 motionless. There was no escape from the niche in 
 which she stood. And even had she the strength to 
 fly she knew the slightest movement on her part meant 
 an instant attack from the serpent. 
 
 But just as the reptile was drawing in its head for 
 the spring the twang of a bowstring sounded, a feathery
 
 102 A Child of the Sun 
 
 flash of light shot down the face of the cliff, and the 
 huge snake, with an arrow through his throat, writhed 
 and twisted itself from the rock and rolled to the 
 beach below. 
 
 A moment later Singing Bird was being borne up 
 the cliff in the sinewy arms of Waupello. 
 
 " Don't cry, little White Sister," said the boy, as he 
 placed her once more on the greensward. " What is an 
 arrow more or less? The old men are pleased with 
 their making, and the quiver of Waupello is always 
 full. Come, I will play for you the songs you love 
 best, and we will run away to the other side of the 
 wood, so that we may forget." 
 
 The boy took his flute from the pocket his mother 
 had made in his mantle, that he might have the instru- 
 ment always with him, and walking slowly along with 
 Singing Bird, played the merriest airs he knew. 
 
 The squirrels ran and chattered in the branches 
 overhead and dropped down nuts as a friendly offering 
 to the children. The jays swung in curving blue lines 
 across the spaces; chipmunks flashed their white stripes 
 in the sun as they ran along the fallen logs or tum- 
 bled over one another among the brambles, and Sing- 
 ing Bird forgot her disagreeable adventure and joined 
 in a merry romp with her playfellows of the wood. 
 
 By a sunlit pool near the everglades the children 
 came upon Tioma, painting the characters of a new 
 story on his broad chest.
 
 JUST AS THE REPTILE WAS DRAWING IX ITS HEAD FOR 
 THE SPRING, THE TWANG OF A BOWSTRING SOUNDED, AND 
 THE HUGE SNAKE, WITH AN ARROW THROUGH HIS THROAT- 
 WRITHED AND TWISTED ITSELF FROM THE ROCK.
 
 Tioma, the Story-Teller 103 
 
 " Is there not enough of piping and squeaking among 
 the wild creatures that our young men should go about 
 blowing into whistles?" roared the Big Voice, halting in 
 his work of decoration to glower good humoredly upon 
 the intruders. 
 
 " If I were as handsome as Tioma I might find 
 more pleasure in looking at my reflection in the pool," 
 laughed Waupello, dropping into the dialect of the 
 playground with the village familiar. 
 
 " Tioma shall paint himself when he pleases," cried 
 Singing Bird, " and while we are resting he will tell us 
 the tale that goes with the pictures." 
 
 Morning Star seated herself on the grasses, and 
 Tioma, ever ready to please the White Sister, who was 
 an appreciative auditor, seated himself on a grassy 
 bank, and prepared to tell them the story of the man 
 who came from a shell. 
 
 'There was once a snail living on the banks of the 
 river, where he found plenty of food, and wanted noth- 
 ing," began the Big Voice. "But at length the waters 
 began to rise and overflow the banks, and although the 
 little animal clung to a log, the flood carried them 
 both away, and for many moons the snail floated about, 
 not knowing where he was going. When the water fell, 
 the poor snail was left in the mud and slime on shore. 
 The heat of the sun came out so strong that he was 
 soon fixed in the slime and could not stir. He could 
 no longer get nourishment. He became oppressed
 
 jo 4 A Child of the Sun 
 
 with heat and drought. He resigned himself to his 
 fate, and prepared to die. But all at once he felt a 
 renewed vigor. His shell burst open, and he began to 
 rise. His head gradually rose above the ground; he 
 felt his lower extremities assuming the character of 
 feet and legs. Arms extended from his sides. He 
 felt their extremities divide into fingers. In fine, he 
 rose under the influence of one day's sun into a tall 
 and noble man. For a while he remained in a dull 
 and stupid state. He had but little activity, and no 
 clear thoughts. These all came by degrees, and when 
 his recollection returned, he resolved to travel back to 
 his native land. 
 
 " But he was naked and ignorant. The first want 
 he felt was hunger. He saw beasts and birds as he 
 walked along, but he knew not how to kill them. 
 He wished himself again a snail, for he knew how 
 in that form to get his food. At length he became 
 so weak, by walking and fasting, that he laid him- 
 self down on a grassy bank to die. He had not lain 
 there long, when he heard a voice calling him by name. 
 'Wasbashas! ' exclaimed the voice. He looked up, 
 and beheld the Great Spirit sitting on a white moose. 
 His eyes glistened like stars. The hair of his head 
 shone like the sun. The man could not bear to look 
 upon the apparition and trembled from head to foot. 
 Again the voice spoke to him in a mild tone. ' Wasbas- 
 has! Why do you look terrified?' ' I tremble/ he replied,
 
 Tioma, the Story-Teller 105 
 
 'because I stand before him who raised me from 
 the ground. I am faint and hungry I have eaten 
 nothing since the floods left me upon the shore, 
 a little shell.' 
 
 "The Great Spirit here lifted up his hands, and 
 displaying a bow and arrows, told him to look at 
 him. At a distance sat a bird on a tree. He put 
 an arrow to the string, and pulling it with force, 
 brought down the beautiful object. At this moment 
 a deer came in sight. He placed another arrow 
 to the string and pierced the animal through. 4 These,' 
 said he, 'are your food, and these are your arms,' 
 handing him the bow and arrows. He then instructed 
 the man how to remove the skin of the deer, and 
 prepare it for a garment. 'You are naked,' said 
 he, ' and must be clothed. It is now warm, but the 
 skies will change, and bring rains and snow and cold 
 winds.' 
 
 "Having said this, the Spirit also imparted the gift of 
 fire, and instructed the new man how to roast the flesh. 
 He then placed a collar of wampum around his neck. 
 'This,' said he, 'is your authority over all beasts.' 
 Having done this, the Great Spirit rose up and 
 vanished from sight. 
 
 " Wasbashas refreshed himself, and now pursued 
 his way to his native land. He had seated himself 
 on the banks of the river, and was meditating on 
 what had passed, when a large beaver rose up from
 
 106 A Child of the Sun 
 
 the channel and addressed him. 'Who art thou,' 
 said the beaver, ' that comest here to disturb my 
 ancient reign?' 'I am a man,' he replied; 'I was 
 once a shell, a creeping shell; but who art thou?' 
 ' I am king of the nation of beavers,' he answered. 
 'I lead my people up and down this stream; we 
 are a busy people, and the river is my dominion.' 
 ' I must divide it with you,' retorted Wasbashas. 
 ' The Great Spirit has placed me at the head of 
 beasts and birds, fishes and fowl, and has provided 
 me with the power of maintaining my rights.' Here 
 he held up the bow and arrows, and displayed the 
 collar of shells around his neck. ' Come, come,' said 
 the beaver, modifying his tone; 'I perceive we are 
 brothers. Walk with me to my lodge, and refresh 
 yourself after your journey'; and so saying, he led 
 the way. The Snail-Man willingly obeyed his invi- 
 tation, and had no reason to repent of his con- 
 fidence. They soon entered a fine large village, 
 and his host led him to the chief's lodge. It was 
 a well-built room, of a cone-shape, and the floor 
 nicely covered with mats. As soon as they were 
 seated, the beaver directed his wife and daughter 
 to prepare food for their guest. 
 
 "While this was getting ready, the beaver chief 
 thought he would improve his opportunity by mak- 
 ing a fast friend of so superior a being, whom he 
 saw, at the same time, to be but a novice. He
 
 'TIOMA TELLS STORIES TO AMUSE US."
 
 Tioma, the Story-Teller 107 
 
 informed him of the method they had of cutting 
 down trees with their teeth, and of felling them 
 across streams so as to dam up the water, and 
 described the method of finishing their dams with 
 leaves and clay. He also instructed him in the way 
 of erecting lodges, and with other wise and season- 
 able conversation beguiled the time. His wife and 
 daughter now entered, bringing in vessels of fresh- 
 peeled poplar and willow and sassafras and alder 
 bark, which is the choicest food known to them. 
 Of this Wasbashas made a merit of eating, while 
 his entertainer devoured it with pleasure. He was 
 pleased with the modest looks and deportment of 
 the chiefs daughter, and her cleanly and neat attire, 
 and her assiduous attention to the commands of her 
 father. This was ripened into esteem by the visit 
 he made her. A mutual attachment ensued. A union 
 was proposed to the father, who was rejoiced to find 
 so advantageous a match for his daughter. A great 
 feast was prepared, to which all the beavers, and 
 other animals on good terms with them, were invited. 
 The Snail-Man and the Beaver-Maid were thus united, 
 and this was the origin of the Red Man." 
 
 " And the beaver then, Waupello, was your great- 
 great-great-great-grandmother," cried Singing Bird, 
 opening wide her big blue eyes. 
 
 " Tioma tells stories to amuse us," replied the boy. 
 " But the beavers are very wise, and their houses are 
 all Tioma has pictured them."
 
 io8 A Child of the Sun 
 
 "And is there not a painting of a beaver on the 
 totem pole that stands before your grandfather's lodge, 
 and do you not wear the sign of the beaver on your 
 belt of Wampum?" roared the Big Voice. "Tioma 
 can see as well as Wahwun, even if he does not 
 wrap himself in a big robe and make noises like 
 a mad Jaba." 
 
 " I like Tioma much better than the medicine- 
 man," declared Singing Bird, going up to the fat 
 story-teller and tapping with her finger his puffed 
 cheek on which was an illustration of a hunter killing 
 a bear. 
 
 Big Voice caught the girl in his arms, and swing- 
 ing her to his shoulder, went bellowing along the 
 slope, Waupello running beside him. 
 
 When Tioma and the children reached the Village 
 it was high noon. As they passed the Council Chamber 
 Panaqui came suddenly out of the shadow of the build- 
 ing, but seeing them approaching shrank closely against 
 the trunk of the guardian tree, and with the instinct 
 of creatures of the forest, became no more than a 
 small knot on the rugged trunk of the pine. 
 
 Big Voice and his playfellows passed on without 
 seeing the dwarf. No sooner was the little group out 
 of sight than Panaqui darted to the door of the Council 
 Chamber, and with a rapid glance upward, where the 
 sun stood straight in the Zenith, he spun through the 
 opening and dropped the curtains behind him.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AN ANGRY SKY 
 
 When Panaqui came out of the Council Chamber a 
 few moments later, there was a mysterious hush per- 
 vading the atmosphere. A yellow-black cloud covered 
 the sun and the earth was gray with the shadow of it. 
 Frightened birds flew aimlessly about, and the trees 
 shivered and seemed to huddle together with prophetic 
 fear. 
 
 With furtive glances over his high-peaked shoul- 
 ders, the Crooked One hurried across the open ground 
 about the Council Chamber and plunged into the wood 
 beyond. 
 
 As he disappeared, there came the ominous roll of 
 thunder, and a band of fire tore a zigzag line through 
 the cloud that was spreading rapidly over the 
 heavens. 
 
 And now the tops of the trees stirred faintly, as 
 though an angry breath had touched them, and a few 
 drops, like great tears, plashed in the dust of the Com- 
 mon Ground. 
 
 The villagers, frightened by the sudden darkness 
 that had fallen, peered anxiously from the doors of 
 
 109
 
 no A Child of the Sun 
 
 their tepees, or hurried from one lodge to another, 
 whispering appeals to the Great Spirit for protection or 
 scattering red feathers of propitiation to the Spirit of 
 Evil. 
 
 But the angry sky took no heed of them. Larger 
 and ever larger grew the terrible cloud; deeper and 
 ever deeper rolled the thunder; nearer and ever nearer 
 darted the crooked shafts of light, until with the rush 
 and roar of a thousand demons the storm broke upon 
 the village in a flood of rain. 
 
 Wanahta, returning from the lodge of Meeme, was 
 swinging proudly down the wooded slope to his own 
 tepee when the storm broke. He did not feel the 
 sudden change in the atmosphere, for his heart was 
 throbbing with a new joy the joy of requited love. 
 The mother of Meeme, but an hour since, had bidden 
 him sit beside her in the bridegroom's seat in the home 
 lodge, which invitation assured the sinewy child of the 
 forest that his wooing had not been in vain. 
 
 He had remained a long time in the lodge, hardly 
 removing his eyes, eloquent with love, and glad with the 
 return of it from the pretty face of Meeme. Few, 
 indeed, had been the lovers' words, the hunter's heart 
 being too full of this new and radiant happiness to allow 
 of speech; and the saucy Pigeon, feeling in her ever 
 merry heart the sacredness of the hour, forgot for the 
 moment the good-natured raillery that came so natu- 
 rally to her rosy lips, and with which she had so long
 
 An Angry Sky- 
 
 kept the brave heart of Wanahta trembling between 
 hope and despair. 
 
 But Wanahta, once out in the woods, which he 
 knew so well and to which he could tell his thoughts 
 without embarrassment, let his lips speak the words that 
 his heart sang so gayly, and he strode along under the 
 friendly boughs chanting bits of the wild minor melo- 
 dies of the chase, or breaking forth into the glorious 
 challenge of the battlefield a grand, free soul of the 
 forest and plain, crowned with the chaplet of Love. 
 
 When the storm broke in all its sudden fury, 
 Wanahta fairly reveled in the tumult of it; he threw up 
 his proud head that he might sniff the damp air and 
 feel the rain beating against his throbbing temples. 
 He came across Panaqui, crouching under a shriveled 
 cedar, shivering and gibbering with fright, and laughed 
 aloud at what he took to be the dwarf's abject cow- 
 ardice. 
 
 But the happy madness of Wanahta received a 
 sudden check, and even his seasoned nerves were shaken 
 as the storm, pausing for an instant as if to gather unto 
 itself new strength, sent forth a ball of liquid fire, that 
 burst with a deafening crash directly over the roof of 
 the Council Chamber. A roar that shook the earth 
 followed instantly, and the tall pine-tree that guarded 
 the entrance to the sacred temple burst into flames, 
 reddening the sky, and casting a wild and weird light 
 over the surrounding country.
 
 ii2 A Child of the Sun 
 
 The tepees stood in fiery silhouette outlined against 
 the flooded earth, and the grass on the distant prairie 
 was like a sea of flame. 
 
 And above the roar of the storm came the wailing 
 of the tribe. 
 
 Panaqui threw himself face downward on the ground, 
 groveling, moaning, supplicating, his misshapen body 
 in its contortions resembling some evil gnome fighting 
 an invisible enemy. 
 
 Then the storm passed, the sun shone out clear and 
 bright in the blue heavens. But the Guardian Pine, 
 at the door of the Council Chamber still cast its red 
 glow over the drenched and broken tepees. 
 
 Wanahta hurried into the village, where he found 
 Minno and Waupello going about among the wailing 
 people, quieting their fears and offering words of com- 
 fort. 
 
 As soon as wood could be found dry enough to 
 permit of kindling a fire, a feast to the Angry Sky was 
 prepared, and every one brought sacrificial offerings 
 calculated to win again the favor of the Great Spirit. 
 But not until the burning pine fell crashing across 
 the Common Ground and was burned to ashes did 
 peace return to the village.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE RETURN OF THE PIASAU 
 
 A few days after the storm which had destroyed the 
 Guardian Pine, Pakablingge was found dead on the 
 beach below the cliff where the Piasau dwelt. The 
 features of the old warrior were distorted with fear, and 
 in his wide-open, staring eyes was clearly photographed 
 the image of the monster. Not a detail of the descrip- 
 tion of the Piasau, as handed down from generation to 
 generation since first the bird was created, was lacking 
 in the picture reflected on the eyeballs of the dead 
 warrior. 
 
 There were the widespread wings, the scale-covered 
 body, the long talons, the forked horns and tail, the 
 grinning jaws, and the fierce glaring eyes of the Piasau 
 they had so long feared, but which none of the Arc- 
 tides save Minno had ever looked upon and lived. 
 
 Those who were courageous enough to gaze for a 
 moment upon the picture, fled horrified to tell the less 
 daring, and consternation seized once more upon the 
 hearts of the nation. 
 
 This was the first appearance of the Piasau in 
 Arctides since the birth of Waupello, and the Arctides 
 
 "3
 
 ii4 A Child of the Sun 
 
 had begun to hope that the mere coming of the chosen 
 child had freed them from the bird's persecutions. Its 
 unexpected return, to claim as a victim one of the 
 oldest and bravest of their warriors, rilled the people 
 with greater fear than they had ever before known, 
 and everything save thoughts of the bird and the boy 
 born to destroy it was driven from their minds. 
 
 They buried the grand old warrior with befitting 
 ceremonies, but even while the drums were being beaten 
 and the feast celebrated the eyes of the people of Arc- 
 tides were turned upon Waupello, and his name mingled 
 with their songs and supplications. 
 
 Minno appreciated more than any one else the terror 
 that would spread among the people with the return of 
 the Piasau. Pakablingge had been his warmest friend, 
 and his death, too, hung heavy upon the heart of the 
 old prophet. Minno reproached himself for not has- 
 tening the education of Waupello, so that he might have 
 been prepared for his work before the coming of this 
 last bereavement, and resolved to waste no further 
 time, but to give himself over entirely to the boy's 
 instruction. 
 
 That nothing should interfere with his plans, Minno 
 suggested to Waupello that the boy give to his play- 
 mates his collection of rare bows, arrows, feathers, 
 skins, and shells, abandon his tepee, and come to dwell 
 in the lodge of his grandfather. Waupello unhesi- 
 tatingly acted upon the old prophet's counsel, feeling
 
 The Return of the Piasau 115 
 
 now for the first time the full responsibility of his 
 mission, and the two henceforth became constant com- 
 panions. All boyish sports and lighter enjoyments 
 were laid aside, and the prophet and the boy com- 
 menced living on the most frugal fare, so that their 
 minds might be filled with noble thoughts and aspira- 
 tions. 
 
 They spent whole days and nights in the woods or 
 upon the broad prairies, listening, discoursing, seeking 
 for the Fount of Wisdom, that they might go forward 
 toward perfection. 
 
 Sometimes, as Waupello and his grandfather sat 
 together in the evening on the grassy banks of the 
 Long River, the boy would take from his robe the pre- 
 cious flute that had now become as his own voice, and 
 play soft melodies that to Minno seemed liquid words, 
 revealing the thoughts of Waupello's soul. And the 
 old prophet, casting his beautiful eyes up to the twin- 
 kling stars, would offer silent prayers for the fulfillment 
 of the prophecy, and the ultimate saving of their 
 people. 
 
 When Waupello and the prophet would return, on 
 rare occasions, to the village, the people stood silent 
 where they passed, gazing upon them with adoring 
 eyes. Before the lodge of Minno was always heaped 
 the best gifts of the field and of the chase, but the 
 wants of the old man and Waupello were now so few 
 and simple that the offerings of their tribesmen became
 
 n6 A Child of the Sun 
 
 sacrificial, and were given to the fire of supplication 
 that now was kept continually burning on the Common 
 Ground. 
 
 As the days went by, Waupello's appearance under- 
 went a marked change. His sinewy frame grew more 
 tense; the lines of his strong, sweet face became more 
 delicate and a spiritual melancholy dwelt in the depths 
 of his large dark eyes. His voice became daily more 
 clear and melodious, like the tones of his flute, so that 
 his lightest words might be heard above the shouts of 
 the hunters. 
 
 Sometimes he would speak to the people, telling 
 them in a simple, unaffected way not to lose hope, nor 
 to be discouraged, for the Great Spirit loved them, and 
 would in the end, if they would have faith, show them 
 a smiling countenance. He told them too of the 
 country of which he had spoken to his mother that 
 Autumn day in the wood; of that beautiful Land of the 
 Sun to which he hoped some day to lead them, and 
 where the terrible winters of their present home were 
 never known. 
 
 The Arctides dwelt lovingly on his words, and 
 believed them; and as the boy had at one time said the 
 journey to the new country would be made down the 
 Long River, they set about building canoes sufficient to 
 carry the whole tribe of Arctides thither. For this 
 purpose they stripped the bark of the red elm and the 
 birch trees and carried it to the village to be converted
 
 The Return of the Piasau 117 
 
 into canoes. The bottoms of the canoes were made of 
 one piece of bark, and with the keels perfectly round, 
 but the sides were of many pieces, overlapping like a 
 sheath, and the sheathed edges sewn together with thin 
 filaments of elm bark, or with the strong roots of the 
 tamarack. Then the Arctides covered the seams over 
 thoroughly with the gum of the fir-tree, and made it 
 perfectly tight, so that it would ride upon the water 
 light as a feather. 
 
 Everybody in the village was now employed in the 
 building of canoes and more than a thousand were put 
 under way. Some were about twenty-five feet long, 
 and some were thirty-five feet long, each family build- 
 ing a canoe of sufficient size to carry its own members. 
 The canoes were made strong and safe, for the journey 
 might be a long one, and they felt that the time was 
 approaching when great things were about to befall the 
 people of Arctides. 
 
 Some of the boats were made of untanned hides of 
 the buffalo and the elk, and each family followed its 
 own inclinations in the building and adornment of their 
 boats. 
 
 But the canoe on which the highest art and utmost 
 ingenuity of the tribe was expended was the craft which 
 the people destined to carry the prophet Minno, Wau- 
 pello, Pakoble, and Singing Bird to their new abiding- 
 place. 
 
 This canoe was built of the silver birch, the most
 
 n8 A Child of the Sun 
 
 gorgeous bark that can be obtained for the purpose, 
 and was twenty deerskins in length. In its widest 
 part, six of the broadest warriors of the tribe might 
 have stood shoulder to shoulder. It was ornamented 
 with the finest pictures the best artists of the tribe could 
 paint, or carvers could design. 
 
 At the bow was a carving of a bird with outspread 
 pinions, while at the stern was the figure of a warrior 
 letting fly an arrow. So gorgeous a boat had never 
 been made by the Arctides before, and each man and 
 woman and child of the tribe did some part of the work, 
 every one contributing something to the canoe. So 
 great was the love for Waupello ; so rooted their faith 
 in his words.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE SUPREME FESTIVAL 
 
 Winter came and sealed up the river, built thick 
 white walls along the length of the ravines, caught the 
 swelling prairie in a giant's grip and held it in frozen 
 undulations, threw cloaks of ermine about the shoulders 
 of the pines and the fir-trees, reared mammoth figures 
 along the face of the cliffs, and challenged the stars of 
 heaven in the multitude of its scintillations. 
 
 Winter came into the village, too, and tore furiously 
 at the skins of the tepees, covered the Common Ground 
 waist-deep with frozen drifts and blocked the trail that 
 led to the Sacred Spring. But the spring itself the 
 Winter could not conquer. No matter how cold the 
 Northwind blew, or how heavy the frost that settled 
 upon the earth, the water in the Sacred Spring sparkled 
 free in the sun, and danced merrily over the rocks to 
 run away under the frozen drifts of snow that arched 
 the brook on its journey to the Long River. When it 
 was coldest, the Spring blew a misty breath up into 
 Winter's face in sheer defiance of his power. 
 
 Like the Sacred Spring, the spirits of the people 
 of Arctides defied the storm and cold, and gathered 
 around the blazing knots of pine and cedar, reinforced 
 
 119
 
 120 A Child of the Sun 
 
 with seasoned sticks of harder timber; they wove and 
 carved and chipped at flints, and told tales of love 
 and adventure, until even the hurrying winds seemed 
 tempted to linger and listen. 
 
 So had the days gone by, and now Winter was 
 almost over, and the feast of the Arctides' New Year was 
 about to be celebrated. This was the Feast of Supreme 
 Belief, and was held generally in February, just before 
 the coming of the Spring. The festival continued 
 seven days, revealing in its ceremonies nearly every 
 feature in the religious system of the nation, the 
 principal sacrifice being a white buffalo or deer, such 
 animals being held sacred by the tribe. But as seldom 
 was there a hunter found fearless enough to take the 
 life of one of these rare and beautiful creatures, a 
 white dog was usually substituted. 
 
 For this occasion, however, it seemed a good Manito 
 had supplied the object of sacrifice, for on the very day 
 the Council set the time for the festival a snow-white 
 deer was provided. On that day Wanahta, returning 
 from following the trail of a stag, surprised a wildcat 
 in the act of dispatching a white doe, and sending an 
 arrow through the heart of the fierce beast, brought 
 home its victim, and laid it reverently before the Altar 
 in the Council Chamber. 
 
 The New Year's festival was ushered in by two of 
 the keepers of the faith, who visited every tepee in 
 and about the village every morning during the seven
 
 The Supreme Festival 121 
 
 days' feast. These messengers were disguised in bear- 
 skins and buffalo-hides, which were secured around their 
 heads with wreaths of cornhusks, and then gathered 
 in loose folds about the body; wreaths of cornhusks 
 were also adjusted around their elbows and wrists and 
 thighs and ankles. Robed in this manner, they were 
 painted by two of the matrons of Arctides, who were also 
 keepers of the faith. They were then commissioned 
 by the Council to go forth and announce the jubilee. 
 Taking corn-pounders in their hands, they went out 
 separately on the morning of the day appointed for 
 the opening of the Supreme Festival to perform their 
 duty. Upon entering a tepee they saluted the in- 
 mates in a formal manner, after which they struck 
 the floor with the corn-pounder to invoke silence 
 and secure attention, when they thus addressed 
 them: 
 
 "Listen, listen, listen! The ceremonies which 
 the Great Spirit has commanded are about to com- 
 mence. Prepare your houses. Clear away the rubbish. 
 Drive out all evil animals. We wish nothing to hinder 
 or obstruct the coming observances. We enjoin upon 
 every one to obey our requirements. Should any of 
 your friends be taken sick and die, we command you 
 not to mourn for them, nor allow any of your friends 
 to mourn; but lay the body aside and enjoy the coming 
 ceremonies with us. When they are over we will 
 mourn with you."
 
 122 A Child of the Sun 
 
 After singing the song of thanksgiving they passed 
 out. 
 
 For the present ceremony this pleasant duty was 
 assigned to Little Fox, whom Wanahta had defeated 
 in the javelin contest, and Mantoweesee, the Thought- 
 ful, who had now grown into a fine young hunter, 
 second only to Wanahta in the science of woodcraft. 
 Pakoble, and Meeme, who was now the wife of Wanahta, 
 were chosen by the messengers to decorate them. In 
 this task they were assisted by Singing Bird, with 
 many laughing suggestions as to the costuming and 
 decorations, while Shandagaya brought the skins and 
 the husks, or stood at hand with the paints. 
 
 The first day of the festival dawned clear and crisp, 
 the snow sparkling brightly in the sun that shone with 
 unusual luster. A great pyre of cedar logs, trimmed 
 with the tips of pine boughs, stood in the center of the 
 Common Ground, ready to receive the sacrifice of the 
 white deer. 
 
 When the people were assembled, Minno and Wau- 
 pello came and stood by the altar, while Wanahta, the 
 hunter, lifted the body of the doe and laid it upon the 
 bier. Then while Wahwun stood ready with a lighted 
 torch to fire the sacred pile, Minno stretched forth his 
 hands and thanked the Great Spirit for his mercy and 
 goodness, asking that the sacrifices they were about to 
 make might find favor in his sight. He implored the 
 protection of the merciful Father on his children, and
 
 The Supreme Festival 123 
 
 that his love might be around them as a shield against 
 all evil; he spoke of the suffering and terror caused by 
 the awful Piasau, and prayed for its speedy destruction. 
 After invoking a blessing on the pursuits of the people 
 for the coming year, he lifted up his face to the sun 
 and stood silent. Every one present followed him in 
 thus standing a moment with outstretched arms, their 
 faces turned to the sun, while Wahwun applied the 
 torch to the sacrificial fire. 
 
 Then the drums began to beat, the rattles to sound, 
 and the people, chanting the thanksgiving hymn of the 
 Supreme Festival, began moving slowly about the altar. 
 But as the music increased the chanting grew louder, 
 the motions of the worshipers more rapid and pro- 
 nounced, until in a short time the whole concourse of 
 people was in an ecstasy of exultation. 
 
 And now the flames about the altar, as if in emula- 
 tion of the spirit of the worshipers, rising swiftly over 
 the seasoned logs of cedar, burst into a transparent 
 arc of fire, in whose opalescent center rested the body 
 of the sacrifice. 
 
 For a moment the glorious walls of flame, forming 
 a perfect arch, seemed to stand still about the delicate 
 white animal, and then, translated by the intense heat, 
 the sacred body instantly disappeared, and a spiral 
 column of blue smoke, rising straight toward the 
 central point of the heavens, took upward to the sun 
 the offering of the Arctides.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 TIOMA AND THE CHILDREN 
 
 The third day of the Supreme Festival was devoted 
 to the children, and on the Common Ground, where 
 the snow by the continued tramping had become 
 packed to a solid mass or disappeared altogether, their 
 games went forward from the rising to the setting of 
 the sun. In the evening Tioma was to entertain them, 
 ?.nd as the weather was still cold it was decided to 
 place the Council Chamber at their disposal. 
 
 Thither then Tioma with the help of Mantowesee 
 carried his stage, made of buffalo-hides stretched over 
 stringers of white cedar, setting it up at the north side 
 of the edifice opposite to and facing the Altar of 
 Hasihta. Thither too he carried many pine torches, 
 with which he surrounded his little rostrum; he also 
 built up a couch of skins across the back of the stage 
 for use in his performance. 
 
 Then selecting from his pouch a quantity of dried 
 peppermint leaves, he ground them to a fine powder 
 between his huge palms. This powder was to be burned 
 as incense to the merry Manitos, for no enterprise of 
 moment, whether serious or for amusement, was ever 
 
 124
 
 Tioma and the Children 125 
 
 entered upon by the Arctides without first making an 
 offering or libation of some kind to the ruling spirit of 
 the occasion. 
 
 Everything being prepared, Tioma dispatched 
 Mantowesee to inform the children that he was in 
 readiness to receive them. 
 
 The children of the village needed no urging to 
 attend an entertainment where Tioma was to be the 
 chief actor. Big Voice was to the little ones the very 
 prince of entertainers. He peopled their young minds 
 with a host of elfs, goblins, good and bad Manitos: 
 delightful people with whom no one else seemed to be 
 the least bit familiar, but whom Tioma knew intimately 
 and whom he always introduced to his eager-eyed, 
 open-eared listeners, the children of Arctides. 
 
 And to have for their sole use the glorious Council 
 Chamber, wherein they had seen so many mighty chiefs 
 assembled in solemn conclave, decked in their magnifi- 
 cent robes and plumes of the Golden Eagle, was a treat 
 beyond their wildest anticipations! 
 
 Soon they came trooping at the heels of Man- 
 towesee, who chided them softly for their noisy mirth 
 at the very door of the Council Chamber, and bade 
 them enter quietly lest they should disturb the Sacred 
 Spirits that were supposed to frequent the temple. 
 
 Singing Bird was almost the last to arrive, and was 
 invited by Tioma to a seat on a fawnskin that he had 
 spread for the purpose, directly in front of the stage.
 
 126 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Tioma's audience quite filled the floor of the Coun- 
 cil Chamber not set apart for the religious ceremonies, 
 a narrow space which no one save the prophets and 
 priests ever invaded. Tioma's little auditors squatted 
 themselves on the soft skins close to one another and 
 prepared to enjoy to the fullest extent whatever Big 
 Voice had to offer. 
 
 When the children were all in and seated quietly, 
 Tioma lighted a small earthenware lamp filled with 
 bear's oil, and when the flames were burning blue and 
 ghostly, he threw small pinches of the powdered pep- 
 permint upon them, which filled the whole edifice with 
 a most delightful odor. 
 
 Then the torches about the stage were lighted, and 
 Big Voice, mounting the platform, announced that he 
 would tell the children the story of the boy who set a 
 snare for the sun. 
 
 At this there was a smothered exclamation of 
 delight, and Tioma, prepared to impersonate all the 
 characters of the drama, began the following legend: 
 
 " At the time when the animals reigned in the earth 
 they had killed all but a girl and her little brother, and 
 these two were living in fear and seclusion. The boy 
 was a perfect pigmy, and never grew beyond the stature 
 of a small infant, but the girl increased with her years, 
 so that the labor of providing food and lodging 
 devolved wholly on her. She went out daily to get 
 wood for their lodge-fire, and took her little brother
 
 Tioma and the Children 127 
 
 along that no accident might happen to him; for he was 
 too little to leave alone. A big bird might have flown 
 away with him. She made him a bow and arrows, and 
 said to him one day: 
 
 ' ' I will leave you behind where I have been chop- 
 ping, but you must hide yourself. When you see the 
 snowbirds come to pick the worms out of the wood 
 where I have been chopping, shoot one of the birds 
 and bring it home.' 
 
 " He obeyed her, and tried his best to kill one, but 
 came home unsuccessful. She told him he must not 
 despair, but try again the next day. She accordingly 
 left him at the same place next day. Toward nightfall 
 she heard his little footsteps on the snow, and he came 
 in exultingly, and threw down one of the birds which 
 he had killed. 
 
 "'My sister,' said he, 'I wish you to skin it and 
 stretch the skin, and when I have killed more, I will 
 have a coat made out of them.' 
 
 " ' But what shall we do with the body?' said she; 
 for as yet men had not begun to eat animal food, but 
 lived on vegetables alone. 
 
 " ' Cut it in two,' he answered, ' and season our 
 pottage with half of it at a time.' 
 
 " She did so. The boy, who was of a very small stat- 
 ure, continued his efforts, and succeeded in killing ten 
 birds, out of the skins of which his sister made him a 
 little coat.
 
 128 A Child of the Sun 
 
 " 'Sister/ said he one day, 'we are all alone in the 
 world. Is there nobody else living?' She told him 
 that those they feared and who had destroyed their 
 relatives lived in a certain quarter, and that he must by 
 no means go in that direction. This only served to 
 inflame his curiosity, and raise his ambition, and he 
 soon after took his bow and arrows and went away. 
 
 "After walking a long time and meeting nothing, 
 he became tired, and lay down on a knoll, where the 
 sun had melted the snow. He fell fast asleep; and 
 while sleeping, the sun beat so hot upon him that it 
 singed and dried up his bird-skin coat, so that when he 
 awoke and stretched himself, he felt bound in it, as it 
 were. When he looked down and saw the damage 
 done to his coat, he flew into a passion and upbraided 
 the sun, and vowed vengeance against it. 
 
 Do not think you are too high!' he cried to the 
 sun. ' I shall revenge myself.' 
 
 " On coming home, he related his disaster to his 
 sister, and lamented bitterly the spoiling of his coat. 
 He would not eat. He lay down as one that fasts, and 
 did not stir or move his position for ten days, though 
 she tried all she could to arouse him. At the end of 
 ten days he turned over, and then lay ten days on the 
 other side. When he got up, he told his sister to make 
 him a snare, for he meant to catch the sun. She said 
 she had nothing, but finally recollected a little piece of 
 dried deer's sinew that her father had left, which she
 
 Tioma and the Children 129 
 
 soon made into a string suitable for a noose. But the 
 moment she showed it to him he told her it would not 
 do, and bid her get something else. She said she had 
 nothing nothing at all. At last she thought of her 
 hair, and pulling some of it out of her head made a 
 string. But he instantly said it would not answer, and 
 bid her pettishly, and with authority, make him a 
 noose. She told him there was nothing to make it of, 
 and went out of the lodge. 
 
 " But while going about in the wood she came upon 
 the bones of the birds they had eaten, and stripping 
 away the tough cords that clung to the bones she has- 
 tened back to the tepee and gave them braided to her 
 brother. 
 
 "The moment he saw this curious braid he was 
 delighted. ' This will do/ he said, and immediately 
 began pulling the braid through his hands. As fast as 
 he drew, it changed into a red metal cord, like the 
 copper Minno tells us our ancestors used to make pots 
 and kettles of. This cord he wound around his body 
 and shoulders till he had a large quantity. He then 
 prepared himself, and set out a little after midnight, 
 that he might catch the sun before it rose. He fixed 
 his snare on a spot just where the sun should strike the 
 land before it rose above the earth. And sure enough 
 he caught the sun, so that it was held fast in the cord 
 and did not rise. 
 
 " The animals who ruled the earth were immedi-
 
 ijo A Child of the Sun 
 
 ately put into a great commotion. They had no light. 
 They called a council to debate upon the matter, and 
 to appoint some one to go and cut the cord for this 
 was a very hazardous enterprise, as the rays of the sun 
 would burn whoever came so near to them. At last the 
 dormouse undertook it, for at this time the dormouse 
 was the largest animal in the world. When it stood up 
 it looked like a mountain. 
 
 " When the dormouse got to the place where the 
 sun was snared, its back began to smoke and burn with 
 the intensity of the heat, and the top of its body was 
 reduced to enormous heaps of ashes. It succeeded, 
 however, in cutting the cord with its teeth, and freeing 
 the sun, but it was reduced to a very small size, and has 
 remained so ever since." 
 
 As Tioma proceeded with the story, sometimes talk- 
 ing in a small voice like the girl, then high and piping 
 like the boy, then roaring like the dormouse when he 
 was a mammoth, and again in the wee small voice of 
 the dormouse after it had been burned to a tiny shape, 
 the children laughed, sighed, wept, and applauded, so 
 that Tioma found it at times difficult to continue. 
 
 When it was all over, they went chattering out of 
 the Council Chamber, and when they found the snow 
 coming down softly in great white flakes, they ran about 
 trying to catch the feathery particles, tumbling over 
 each other, and emerging from the drifts with their 
 deerskin robes white with the newly fallen snow.
 
 Tioma and the Children 131 
 
 But Singing Bird, her mind full of her friend and 
 playmate Waupello, did not join in the merry romp, 
 but walked quietly beside Tioma, her sober face a great 
 contrast to the merry ones about her. 
 
 Past the lodge of Minno trooped the happy band of 
 children, filling the air with the sweet music of their 
 young voices. The old prophet, hearing the joyous 
 rout, nodded and smiled over at Waupello, where he 
 sat in deep contemplation of the future of his people 
 and their ultimate happiness. And Waupello, drop- 
 ping his face in his hands, prayed to the Great Spirit 
 to hasten the time when the destruction of the people 
 should cease, and the joy of the children should dwell 
 in every heart. 
 
 The glad shouts of the children had long since died 
 away on the frosty air, and the village was wrapped in 
 slumber, when Waupello, lifting his head, said: 
 
 " Minno, I hear a voice calling me to come and 
 walk alone, that I may be told the secret of the 
 casket." 
 
 " It may be no more than the echo of the children's 
 voices in your ears," said the old prophet, loath to have 
 the boy go forth in the storm. 
 
 1 'Tis the voice of the Great Spirit, O Minno, and 
 Waupello longs for the message." And drawing his 
 robe about him, Waupello went forth in the night 
 alone.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE WORD 
 
 When morning broke, the quiet snow had ceased to 
 fall, but a soft white carpet lay over the hard frozen 
 crust of the long winter and the whole earth was man- 
 tled in a fleece of dazzling white. 
 
 The wise ones nodded their heads knowingly, and 
 said the maple-sap would run freely this year and the 
 earth would be rich for the harvest. 
 
 The spectacle of the dissolution of the snow-white 
 doe at the sacrifice was considered a special recogni- 
 tion by the Great Spirit of the offering, and the people 
 of Arctides continued the Supreme Festival with hearts 
 filled with thankfulness. 
 
 But Minno could not bring his mind to dwell upon 
 these things. His thoughts turned constantly to Wau- 
 pello, alone in the snow-bound forest, or on the frozen 
 plain, and a silent prayer was ever on the old prophet's 
 lips for the beloved boy's safety. 
 
 Minno, being the chief prophet and father of the 
 Arctides, his presence was absolutely necessary at the 
 opening of all the ceremonies, but once these duties 
 
 132
 
 LISTENING FOR THE WORD.
 
 The Word 133 
 
 were performed, he returned to his lodge and gave his 
 soul to supplication. 
 
 But the Supreme Festival came to an end at last, 
 and the villagers, worn out by the attendant excite- 
 ment, slept soundly in their tepees. 
 
 The night seemed strangely silent after the noisy 
 beating of drums, the shoutings and chantings of the 
 ceremonies, and the crackling of the sacrificial fires, 
 which had continued almost without intermission for 
 seven days. 
 
 The first faint colors of dawn were stealing up the 
 sky, when Minno, waking from a light sleep, saw Wau- 
 pello standing in the center of the lodge. The light 
 of the sacerdotal lamp, now kept burning continually 
 in the lodge of the Prophet, shone full' on the spiritual 
 face of the boy, which bore such a lofty and inspired 
 expression that Minno was thrilled with the sublimity 
 of it. 
 
 Rising from his couch, the prophet would have 
 thrown himself at the feet of this Child of the Sun, but 
 Waupello, putting his arm about the shoulders of 
 Minno, gently forced him back upon the bed of skins, 
 and seating himself beside his grandfather, said in his 
 flute-like tones: 
 
 "Minno, rejoice, for thy prayers for the people are 
 answered. In the silence of the forest Waupello has 
 seen the Bird of Beautiful Plumage. It has told him 
 the way he should go. His duty is clear before him.
 
 134 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Three days he will rest in your lodge. On the fourth 
 let the people assemble, and then when our father, the 
 Sun, looks down from his height in the heavens, at the 
 Altar of Hasihta, the Sun-Man, the casket will open 
 before them." 
 
 As Waupello spoke, the light that illumined his 
 face was imparted to that of the prophet, and as the 
 music of the young voice died away, Minno rose, and 
 brought the meat of nuts and the sweet juice of berries 
 and spread them before Waupello. 
 
 And the Child of the Sun having broken his fast, 
 lay down upon the couch of skins and fell sweetly 
 asleep. Then Minno went forth in the glorious light 
 of the morning to proclaim the glad news to all the 
 tribe of Arctides.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE ARROW OF THE SUN 
 
 The day for which the Arctides so long had waited, 
 the day which was to see the opening of the casket and 
 the delivery into the hands of Waupello the wonderful 
 Arrow of the Sun, was come at last. 
 
 Since early morning the people had been gathering 
 upon the Common Ground until every man and woman 
 of the tribe was present. 
 
 But no chanting of songs or beating of drums dis- 
 turbed the quiet of the forest or echoed amongst the 
 cliffs. The time was too intense for outward ceremo- 
 nies. The people had suffered so long, hoping against 
 hope for the arrival of this hour, that now it was at 
 hand the sublimity of it all filled them with awe beyond 
 the power of utterance. 
 
 Twice had the hearts of the present generation 
 swelled high with hope, only to meet with bitter disap- 
 pointment. The gentle Nirigwis, too frail and spirit- 
 ual to endure his initial fast, had been taken early by 
 the Good Manitos, and the noble but warlike Strong- 
 heart had paid the penalty of his ambition with death 
 on the field of battle. 
 
 135
 
 136 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Could it be that the Great Spirit had another dis- 
 appointment in store for them? But no; in Waupello 
 they saw the gentle mind of Nirigwis and the manly 
 strength and heroic valor of Strongheart combined. 
 Surely he would not fail them. His life had been such 
 as to inspire the confidence of the most careless or 
 skeptical. If now at the supreme moment doubts 
 thrust themselves upon the minds of the people, it 
 was more because the certainty of fulfillment was too 
 blissful a thought to be borne without pain. For 
 hours they stood in a compact line, reaching from the 
 center of the village to the spring-brook that bordered 
 the prairie, their faces gray with suppressed emotion, 
 their eyes fixed on the Council Chamber, waiting till 
 the sun mounting slowly up the sky should approach 
 the meridian. Then the great curtain of the Council 
 Chamber would be drawn aside and in solemn pro- 
 cession the people would file by the Altar of Hasihta 
 and look upon the copper case which held the one Hope 
 of the Children of the Sun. 
 
 And now from the upper end of the village in the 
 direction of the medicine lodge came the sound of the 
 ceremonial drums, and Wahwun, wearing the com- 
 plete dress of the Chief of the Metas, appeared, fol- 
 lowed by the lesser medicine-men of the tribe. He 
 came proudly down the slope, his plumed head-dress 
 trailing behind him, his medicine-bag, made of the 
 skins of many birds and reptiles, held like a shield upon
 
 The Arrow of the Sun 137 
 
 his breast. The Metas took a position at the right of 
 the Common Ground, facing east. 
 
 Next came Wanahta, who had been promoted to 
 the place made vacant by the death of Pakablingge, 
 that of Chief Warrior. Supported by Little Fox, he 
 led the warriors of the tribe, all painted and equipped 
 for battle. 
 
 Next came Mantowesee, leading the hunters, and 
 after them Tioma, wearing the most gorgeous head- 
 dress ever seen in the village and with an entirely 
 new set of illustrations covering his whole upper body. 
 
 A line was soon formed, with the different groups 
 taking their places in the order named, the curtains of 
 the Council Chamber were drawn aside, and to the 
 solemn beating of drums and the chant of the hymn of 
 triumph, the procession, led by Wahwun, moved for- 
 ward, the villagers bringing up the rear. 
 
 At the door of the Council Chamber Wahwun 
 paused to raise his hands and lift his face to the sun, a 
 gesture to be followed by each of the Arctides before 
 entering the Chamber. Then he passed on, turning 
 squarely to the right as he passed under the arch, and 
 again to the left when he was on line with the totem 
 pole of the tribe that stood opposite the Shield of the 
 Sun. As he passed the Altar he raised his medicine- 
 bag and shook it fiercely to frighten away any evil 
 Manitos that might be lurking near. Then with a 
 suspicious glance at the small copper case in which
 
 138 A Child of the Sun 
 
 long ago had been placed the Arrow to be sealed with 
 the mystical word, he passed on. Turning squarely 
 again before the great Shield of the Sun, Wahwun 
 seated himself on a soft cushion of skins near the east- 
 ern enhance, the other Metas following his example. 
 
 The warriors, led by Wanahta, turned to the right 
 before the Shield of the Sun and ranged themselves 
 along the southern wall, quite filling the space forward 
 to a line with the Altar. The hunters, led by Manto- 
 wesee, forming in a compact body on the left of the 
 Altar. 
 
 Tioma, now the head of the procession, led the 
 people slowly around the interior of the Chamber, halt- 
 ing at the western entrance. Thus in a short time they 
 were packed in a solid mass along the northern wall as 
 far forward as the center of the room, the bright head- 
 feathers of the young men rising here and there above 
 the brown background of the soft tanned robes of the 
 women. 
 
 Every foot of ground in the interior of the building 
 was now covered with the exception of the passageway 
 and a space about the Altar reserved to the Prophet 
 Minno and his immediate relatives. Outside, the peo- 
 ple gathered as closely to the entrances as they could 
 get, until there was not standing-room sufficient for an 
 arrow's flight, either to the east or the west of the 
 Council Chamber. 
 
 All this time not a word had been spoken; the most
 
 The Arrow of the Sun 139 
 
 perfect order prevailed everywhere; the low roll of the 
 ceremonial drum and the rhythmic swish of light moc- 
 casined feet passing over the skins laid on the floor of 
 the Chamber accentuating rather than disturbing the 
 solemn silence. 
 
 Soon even these sounds were hushed, for Minno had 
 entered the hall from the east, arrayed in the ceremo- 
 nial robes of his high office. Approaching the Altar 
 of Hasihta, the old prophet paused and with uplifted 
 face invoked the blessing of the Sun. Then taking 
 his place behind the Altar he stood erect, looking with 
 soulful eyes upon the expectant people. 
 
 Following him came Pakoble, a proud, glad light in 
 her eyes, and by her side walked Singing Bird, her fair 
 skin and red-brown tresses in striking contrast to the 
 bronze faces and straight black hair of all the others. 
 
 After invoking the blessing of the Sun, Pakoble and 
 the fair child went to stand near Memee, who occupied 
 a point of vantage a little in advance of the front rows, 
 facing the Altar. 
 
 And now Waupello came. How brave and noble 
 he looked as he moved quietly forward to the Altar 
 and held up his fine young face for the blessing! About 
 his lithe, supple figure the sacred cloak of white beaver 
 clung in graceful folds; a chaplet of wampum was bound 
 about his shapely head, and on his breast hung a glit- 
 tering Shield of the Sun, But all this was forgotten 
 when, standing erect beside the Altar, he looked into
 
 140 A Child of the Sun 
 
 the faces of the almost breathless people. There was 
 a glory in his gaze that sent a thrill to every heart, and 
 a sigh that was felt more than heard trembled on the 
 air a great unworded prayer of love and hope and 
 supplication. 
 
 Something now, or hearts will break. Minno felt 
 this, and raised his hands appealingly to heaven. Then 
 slowly the boy turned toward the casket, and meekly 
 bowing his head, whispered the word. Silently, slowly, 
 the seal of the Sun upon the casket parted, silently the 
 lid lifted until the interior of the casket stood revealed. 
 Tremblingly the boy raised his eyes; reverently he 
 reached forth his hand. Then an ashen pallor swept 
 over the delicate bronze cheek and a look of anguish 
 leaped into his expectant eyes. 
 
 "Minno! the Arrow is gone!" 
 
 Like the cry of a stricken hare the heartbroken 
 wail struck upon the ears of the people. There was an 
 instant of silence, followed by a fluttering sigh. Then 
 came a fearful choking sound, as though fingers of 
 steel were clutching at every throat. The last hope of 
 a stricken nation had been snatched from its grasp and 
 the blood was freezing in the veins of the people. 
 
 The revulsion came, and a sudden desire for venge- 
 ance set fire to the tense nerves and flamed from the 
 overstrained eyes. The nation had been cheated of 
 its destiny and demanded a victim in return. 
 
 The people were beginning to stir now, not like
 
 The Arrow of the Sun 141 
 
 human beings, but like beasts of prey, cautiously, rest- 
 lessly. Their eyes fell on Panaqui, who had glided 
 forward into the open space, and a voice cried hoarsely: 
 
 "Panaqui! the Crooked One, he is an evil spirit!" 
 
 "Let him be burned! the Crooked One! the Crooked 
 One!" demanded another. 
 
 The restless movement increased, and the face of 
 the dwarf grew livid, while his repulsive chin quivered 
 with fear. He knew the temper of the people and rec- 
 ognized the danger he was in. Suddenly his eyes fell 
 on Singing Bird, and pointing his long hairy finger at 
 the fair child, he cried: 
 
 " Not Panaqui but the Singing Bird is the bad 
 Manito. Panaqui is an Indian." 
 
 The result was instantaneous. Here was a tangible 
 clew to the overthrow of their high hopes. An alien, 
 a waif from an unknown country, differing from them 
 in every way, a bad Manito indeed. 
 
 With the snarl of hungry wolves, a hundred men 
 strained forward, stretching out fierce hands to grasp 
 the fair child. Women shrieked and gibbered and 
 cried out for her blood. 
 
 " To the names with the bad Manito!" screamed the 
 Old One, her white teeth glistening between her blue, 
 parched lips. Anything to turn the minds of the peo- 
 ple from her son. " Have you forgotten how pleased 
 the Great Spirit was with the white doe? Here is 
 another ready for the sacrifice. Let the cedar logs be
 
 142 A Child of the Sun 
 
 made ready! When the bad Manito is gone, the Arrow 
 will return." 
 
 The reference to the loss of the Arrow completed 
 the delirium that had seized on the people, and the 
 cries for the life of Singing Bird became a roar that 
 shook the Council Chamber. 
 
 Minno, broken in body and in spirit, hurried from 
 the Altar to face the maddened crowd. But even the 
 loved prophet was swept aside in the mad frenzy. 
 
 Singing Bird, running to the side of Waupello, clung 
 to his hand, pale and trembling with fright. Wanahta, 
 snatching a sacred spear from behind the Altar, faced 
 the howling multitude like a stag at bay. Pakoble lay 
 like one dead in the arms of Mantowesee. 
 
 But suddenly above the howls and shrieks and fierce 
 demands for blood there rose, like the clear notes of 
 the flute he loved so well, the voice of Waupello. 
 
 " Hark, Children of Arctides! Hark to the words 
 of the Spirit!" 
 
 Firm and sweet the youthful tones rang out distinct 
 but sweet above the tumult. 
 
 "Hark to the voice of the Spirit! The word that 
 opened the casket is as strong on the lips of the Evil 
 as on the lips of the Good. The Singing Bird, free in 
 the forest, has never a thought that could harm you. 
 The free serpent gives you fair warning; 'tis the serpent 
 you tread on that stings. And if there be one of Arc- 
 tides who never did wrong to a brother, let him stand
 
 "HARK TO THE VOICE OP THE SPIRIT ! . . .. THE SINGING 
 BIRD HAS NEVER A THOUGHT THAT COULD HARM YOU."
 
 The Arrow of the Sun 143 
 
 forth by the Altar. He shall have the fair child to the 
 flames." 
 
 Sweetly solemn the clear voice rose and swelled and 
 floated away over the heads of the people, standing 
 dumbly now, stilled, they knew not why. And when 
 the words had died away in the distance, the melody of 
 them remained to fill the Council Chamber with a 
 music strange and soothing. 
 
 Then one after another the listeners went quietly 
 out of the Chamber, even to Minno, the prophet. 
 And the Child of the Sun stood alone by the empty 
 casket.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ALL VOICES MERGE IN ONE 
 
 A dull apathy settled upon the tribe after the 
 terrible scene in the Council Chamber. The people 
 still hunted and fished, made pots, and wove grass and 
 rushes, but they did it all in a hopeless, spiritless sort 
 of way that told plainly enough how numb their hearts 
 were. Their anticipations had been so keen and the 
 blow had been so sudden that these children of nature 
 must have been more than human not to have been 
 deadened by the stroke. It was not surprising that 
 their exaltation, which had continued through the week 
 of the Supreme Feast and culminated in the mysterious 
 opening of the casket, should have been changed 
 to sudden madness at the betrayal of their hopes. A 
 frightened herd of deer will turn to rend and trample 
 to death one of its number wounded in the flight. 
 Overstrained nerves are sensitive, and the nerves as 
 well as the hearts of Arctides had been sorely tried. 
 
 Minno had become suddenly old. The words pro- 
 claiming the loss of the Arrow had pierced his soul and 
 broken his proud spirit. His trust in the Great Spirit 
 was so implicit so simple, so childlike, that he could not
 
 All Voices Merge in One 145 
 
 understand the absence of the Arrow from the casket. 
 He did not lose faith in the Merciful Father, because 
 that was impossible to one who had so long felt the 
 dear heart of nature beating warmly against his own. 
 He could not doubt, because he had witnessed the 
 parting of the seal and the lifting of the lid in obedience 
 to the word upon the lips of Waupello. He remem- 
 bered too the voice of Shangadaya calling in the Coun- 
 cil Chamber, "An evil spirit has taken the Arrow," and 
 he would grope blindly toward some solution of the 
 mystery. 
 
 Pakoble, with the true instincts of a mother-heart, 
 laid hold of the words of Waupello, and repeated them 
 over and over to herself, feeling sure that they held the 
 key to the secret. 
 
 " The serpent that is free gives you warning, 'tis the 
 serpent you tread on that stings." What was it in the 
 brief sentences that stilled the tumult and sent the 
 people shamefaced away? Pakoble recognized the 
 inherent force of the words and felt certain they 
 referred in some way to Shangadaya and Panaqui. 
 But that was as far as she could go. 
 
 Whatever Waupello knew or felt, he kept his own 
 counsel. The absence of the Arrow from the casket 
 had given him a great shock, but in the scene of fury 
 that followed he seemed to have caught at least a 
 portion of the truth, and in a few simple words to have 
 conveyed it to others, even in their madness.
 
 146 A Child of the Sun 
 
 But whatever he knew or suspected, he gave no 
 sign, but wandered about the woods, breathing tender 
 melodies into his flute or sat thoughtfully silent on the 
 high cliff overlooking the river. 
 
 Minno was Waupello's confidant, but not even to 
 him did the boy say more than served to cheer and 
 comfort the broken-hearted old man. 
 
 One day, after a long talk with Minno, Waupello 
 went into the forest, and building with his own hands 
 an altar of stone, he laid upon it the boughs of red 
 cedar and spruce. When the fire was burning, he 
 sprinkled upon it the dust of pure tobacco as a peace 
 offering to the Great Spirit. Then holding up his face 
 for the blessing of the Sun, he laid upon the flames the 
 beautiful flute that had now become the voice of his 
 soul. It was his first great self-sacrifice; and when the 
 cruel flames ate into the polished wood that had for 
 so long received his confidences, the boy's heart sank 
 within him and he groaned aloud, while his fingers 
 beat trembling measures on the empty air. Then he 
 knew why the Great Spirit had demanded the sacrifice 
 of the flute, and he began to chant in his own voice a 
 song of sorrow which had lain mute in his heart since 
 he was a boy. 
 
 So Waupello found another voice, or received back 
 the voice of his boyhood, and with it a greater and more 
 perfect appreciation of the human things of life. 
 
 He now found himself singing the songs he had
 
 HE LAID UPON THE FLAMES THE BEAUTIFUL FLUTE THAT 
 HAD NOW BECOME THE VOICE OF HIS SOUL.
 
 All Voices Merge in One 147 
 
 learned in childhood, the rhythmic chorus of the hunt 
 or the weird strains of the war-dance. He hunted up 
 Wanahta, too, and borrowing a bow and a quiver filled 
 with arrows, he went out to hunt on the broad prairie. 
 
 Again he joined the javelin-throwers on the Com- 
 mon Ground, ran races with Mantowesee, and wrestled 
 with the sinewest youths of the tribe. The childlike 
 pleasures of Pakoble's tepee were renewed, and he took 
 great delight in bringing the laughter to his mother's 
 lips or challenging the wit and fun of Singing Bird. 
 All the ordinary pursuits and employments of his boy- 
 hood Waupello enjoyed now with a new understanding, 
 and life flowed on evenly and smoothly again. 
 
 But withal he did not forget the prophecy nor give 
 over his plans for destroying the Piasau.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE FIGHT ON THE CLIFF 
 
 Waupello grew once more sturdy and strong. The 
 tan of wind and sun deepened the rich bronze of his 
 complexion and his eyes glowed and sparkled with the 
 joy of healthful life. He climbed the hills and followed 
 the trail with Mantowesee, or made long journeys to 
 the border lands of Arctides to see that the Ojibwas 
 did not encroach upon the hunting-grounds of the 
 Children of the Sun. 
 
 He made for himself a new bow from a piece of 
 second-growth hickory that had been seasoning in the 
 lodge of Wanahta almost since Waupello was born. 
 The bow was strung with the sinews of the wildcat shot 
 by Wanahta the day preceding the Supreme Festival. 
 The old men gave Waupello their most perfectly 
 chipped flints for his arrow-heads, and Singing Bird 
 helped him to feather them with tips of eagle-plumes. 
 His rawhide quiver she decorated with many fanciful 
 designs, and trimmed the thongs by which it was to 
 hang over his shoulders with strings of precious 
 wampum. 
 
 " When the Arrow of the Sun is fitted to his bow- 
 148
 
 The Fight on the Cliff 149 
 
 string Waupello will have nothing more to wish for," 
 cried the youth to his mother when his equipment was 
 finally completed and they had all gathered round to 
 admire it. 
 
 A shade of sadness swept over the mother's face as 
 the scene in the Council Chamber rose before her, but 
 she pressed the hands of her handsome son, and gazed 
 proudly and lovingly into his honest, fearless eyes. 
 
 " When Waupello goes again for the Wonderful 
 Arrow," cried Singing Bird, "he need not look to see 
 the White Sister among his admirers. She has no 
 wish to be burned for the pleasure of the Old One and 
 her crooked son, Panaqui," and with a light laugh the 
 happy-hearted girl threw, spear-wise, an eagle's feather 
 straight at the head of Waupello. The shot was a good 
 one, and would have struck home had not Waupello 
 dodged quickly aside. 
 
 "The Singing Bird should enter the lists in the 
 game of javelins," cried the boy. " There 'she might 
 win all the darts in the village." 
 
 "And give them to Waupello, who has none of his 
 own, but must borrow from Wanahta and Mantowesee," 
 gayly replied the fair child, shaking her loosely bound 
 hair until it shone again. 
 
 " Is the son of Strongheart preparing to make war 
 on the Ojibwas, that he is trimming his bow and quiver 
 with the plumes of the eagle?" roared Tioma, thrusting 
 his decorated head and shoulders into the lodge.
 
 150 A Child of the Sun 
 
 " Not to-day, Big Voice," said the boy. " Sometime 
 Waupello may lead the warriors against the enemies of 
 his people in defense of their liberties, but to-day we 
 go to the woods to be with the birds and squirrels. 
 If Tioma has a new tale to tell he may come with 
 us." 
 
 "Do, do, good Tioma!" cried Singing Bird, clapping 
 her hands together and dancing coaxingly about Big 
 Voice. " You shall have all the dried berries and corn- 
 cakes reserved for Singing Bird if you will come." 
 
 Tioma willingly accepted the invitation, for besides 
 being fond of dried berries and corn-cakes, his huge 
 chest was swelling with a tale he had invented over- 
 night, and with which he hoped to win new laurels, as 
 well as cakes and fruit. 
 
 Everything was soon in readiness, and Pakoble, 
 Waupello, Singing Bird, and Tioma started on the 
 jaunt. But first they went to call on Minno and tell 
 him of their prospective outing, as well as to see that 
 he lacked nothing for his comfort. The old prophet 
 was feeble now, and rarely left his lodge except to take 
 part in the religious ceremonies, so that they could not 
 hope to coax him from his lodge. 
 
 On their way through the village they were joined 
 by Wanahta and Meeme, and in the pleasant spring 
 weather the happy little party passed into the shade of 
 the forest. 
 
 The squirrels welcomed them with much chattering
 
 The Fight on the Cliff 151 
 
 and frisking of bushy tails; the rabbis left off nibbling 
 the tender leaves to run beside them, or sat up on their 
 haunches looking at them curiously out of big, solemn 
 eyes. 
 
 It was a joyous day of the most joyous season of 
 the year, and the friends whom triumphs and defeats 
 had bound together so closely forgot for the time that 
 evil had ever been in the world. 
 
 Then they saw Panaqui under a tangle of vines, and 
 a different look came into Waupello's face, and he ran 
 toward the Crooked One, crying: 
 
 "The Arrow, Panaqui; give me the Arrow of the 
 Sun!" But the dwarf slipped into the vines and disap- 
 peared. Waupello's companions were curious to know 
 the cause of his demanding the Arrow of Panaqui, but 
 forbore to question him, and the incident was soon 
 forgotten in the pleasant excitement of the day. 
 
 The afternoon was wellnigh spent, and Tioma was 
 about to begin his new story, when they saw Mantowe- 
 see running toward them, crying in a low, frightened 
 voice, " The Piasau! the Piasau!" 
 
 Consternation seized on the hearts of the little 
 group that only a moment before had been filled with 
 happiness, and drawing about the young hunter they 
 waited breathlessly for the name of the Monster's latest 
 victim. 
 
 It proved to be Little Fox. He had been gone 
 from the village but a short time when he was found
 
 152 A Child of the Sun 
 
 dead, with a look upon his face which told only too truly 
 of the return of the Bird of Evil. 
 
 So deeply interested were the others in Mantowe- 
 see's recital of the tragedy, that for some moments they 
 did not notice the absence of Waupello. When they 
 came to search for him he could nowhere be found. 
 
 Anguish seized the heart of Pakoble, and all feared, 
 they knew not what. Loudly they called upon Wau- 
 pello, but no answer came to cheer their listening ears, 
 and only the echoes replied, " Waupello." 
 
 So the little band, heavy-hearted and overcome by 
 this additional sorrow, retraced their steps to the 
 village, from which they had so recently come with 
 laughter and song. 
 
 The return of the Piasau filled Waupello with rage 
 such as he had never before known. W T hen he had 
 heard what Mantowesee had to say of the death of 
 Little Fox a stern look came into the boy's eyes, and 
 turning quickly about he strode away into the forest. 
 He had always had a horror of the Piasau, but now he 
 felt that had not some evil spirit thwarted him he might 
 ere this have destroyed the Evil Bird, and he hated it 
 with an indescribable fury, and burned with a mad 
 desire to find the one who had desecrated the casket 
 and either secure the Arrow or be revenged on the 
 thief. 
 
 " If I might only find the Arrow!" he cried. Then 
 he ran on and on, taking no note of where he was
 
 The Fight on the Cliff 153 
 
 going, until he found himself on a bluff that rose 
 abruptly to the east. He climbed the declivity and 
 stood at last upon a single flat rock, not much larger 
 than a buffalo-hide, that projected over the face of 
 the cliff. 
 
 Far below ran the Long River, dimpling and smil- 
 ing in the sun. From its farther shore stretched the 
 receding prairie, green with the new grass of the 
 spring. 
 
 It was a pleasant view, and Waupello stood for a 
 moment on the eminence to enjoy it. But the memory 
 of the cruel Piasau returned to drive every pleasant 
 thought from his mind, and again he cried aloud: 
 
 " If only I could find the Arrow!" 
 
 As if in response to his exclamation, a small stone 
 struck at his feet, rolled over the edge of the rock and 
 shot down to the ragged shore below. Waupello, 
 noting its fall, tried to imagine what the sensation 
 would be if the stone were a quick instead of a dead 
 thing. Then wondering from whence it came, he 
 turned to behold the dwarf, Panaqui, a deer's length 
 away, stooping as if preparing to spring upon him. The 
 big hairy arms of the Crooked One were drawn back 
 close to his breast and his short muscular legs were 
 bent under him, ready to throw the whole weight of his 
 ugly body against the unresisting figure of the boy. 
 
 Waupello thought of the stone in its rapid descent 
 from the cliff, and for an instant his brain reeled and
 
 154 A Child of the Sun 
 
 a black shadow fell over his eyes. Then the scene in 
 the Council Chamber came back to him, and he seemed 
 to hear again the harsh voice of the Crooked One 
 demanding the life of Singing Bird. 
 
 He heard, too, the words of the Spirit he had 
 spoken then without a clear knowledge of their mean- 
 ing, and as they flashed into his brain he knew the 
 truth. 
 
 "The Arrow, Panaqui," he cried, fiercely; "the 
 Arrow of the Sun!" 
 
 " Do you think Panaqui a fool, like Tioma, that he 
 is pleased to do the bidding of the Arctides for a hand- 
 ful of berries and a cup of water? The Piasau is safe 
 to feed on the hated Arctides. Panaqui will keep the 
 Arrow." 
 
 Waupello felt a furious desire to catch up the grin- 
 ning dwarf and shake the secret from him, but his 
 better nature triumphed, and he said quietly: 
 
 "If Panaqui will restore the Arrow, he may go 
 where he chooses. The Arctides will then gladly give 
 him his liberty." 
 
 " And make him straight and tall like Wanahta, or 
 lithe and fleet like Waupello," sneered the Crooked 
 One. 
 
 "That they cannot do." 
 
 " Neither then can Panaqui restore the Arrow." 
 
 " What if Waupello should take it," cried the boy, 
 moving a step nearer the Crooked One.
 
 The Fight on the Cliff 155 
 
 " Not while Panaqui lives," and with the snarl of a 
 rabid wolf Panaqui threw himself upon Waupello in an 
 effort to force him over the face of the cliff. 
 
 Lithe and supple as a panther, trained in all the 
 sports of the Common Ground, as well as in the dangers 
 of the chase, Waupello was a match for any ordinary 
 antagonist. But the dwarf, while much beneath him in 
 height, was big and strong of body, and his long hairy 
 arms were knotted with muscles like the trunk of a 
 black oak tree. 
 
 The two came together near the center of the rock, 
 but the force of the dwarf's spring crowded Waupello 
 backward so far that as he bent to get a better hold of 
 Panaqui's misshapen body Waupello could plainly see 
 the shore-line far below them as they hung over the 
 projecting rock. But his young limbs were firm and 
 hard with recent training, and the spirit of his many 
 fastings and vigils gave additional strength to his 
 youthful frame; his brain was cool and his nerve steady 
 as he clung to the rock and pulled himself free of the 
 dwarf's embrace. 
 
 Again they clinched, and Waupello, forcing his 
 hand under Panaqui's left arm and across the small of 
 his back, grasped the right arm of the Crooked One in 
 a firm grip. Then with a quick turn of his supple body 
 he drew Panaqui around so that they were back to 
 back. The dwarf sought frantically to reach the 
 slender throat of his antagonist with his free hand,
 
 156 A Child of the Sun 
 
 knowing well the advantage such a grip with his long 
 knotted fingers would give him. 
 
 But Waupello stooped quickly forward, raising the 
 dwarf clear of the ground; then catching one of the 
 short legs by the ankle he whirled the body upward. 
 There was the sound of breaking bones, a fierce gasp, 
 a howl of rage and pain, and then Waupello, lifting the 
 body of the Crooked One high above his head, hurled 
 it over the cliff. As the form of Panaqui shot out into 
 space there was a musical ring on the rock, and looking 
 down Waupello saw lying at his feet the Arrow of the 
 Sun.
 
 WAUPELLO, LIFTING THE BODY CF THE CROOKED ONE 
 HIGH ABOVE HIS HEAD, HURLED IT OVER THE CLIFF.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE PIASAU 
 
 There was joy in the village of Arctides when Wau- 
 pello came upon the Common Ground and announced 
 that at last he had possession of the Wonderful Arrow. 
 It now seemed certain the hated Piasau was to be de- 
 stroyed, and everybody went about with a smiling face 
 and beaming eyes. 
 
 Minno, to whom Waupello had first related the 
 good news, seemed to have grown strangely young 
 again, and was now constantly to be seen in the Coun- 
 cil Chamber or at the feasts of thanksgiving that were 
 being celebrated in the village of Arctides. 
 
 Wanahta and Mantowesee seemed to be everywhere 
 at once, shouting with the hunters, chanting with the 
 warriors, or leaping and dancing with the children, to 
 whom this unusual festival was as surprising as it was 
 welcome. 
 
 Tioma roared the story of Waupello's heroic 
 achievement before every tepee, and Wahwun shook 
 his medicine-bag and looked as wise and consequen- 
 tial as if he, and not Waupello, were the hero of the 
 occasion. 
 
 157
 
 158 A Child of the Sun 
 
 Pakoble's joy was too sacred for the general eye, 
 and she sat in her lodge looking with wondering eyes 
 upon Waupello whenever he was with her, and softly 
 murmuring his praises when he was beyond the sound 
 of her voice. 
 
 Singing Bird was the only one who refused to 
 lionize her old playmate; and while in her heart she 
 gloried in his strength and courage, she pretended to 
 think but lightly of his latest achievement, and tossing 
 her golden head, said, teasingly, that she could have 
 done quite as well herself, if she had only been con- 
 sulted. 
 
 The joy was so universal and so complete that the 
 people lost sight of the danger to Waupello. Their 
 faith in the Great Spirit was absolute, and their prayers 
 having been answered so far, they did not waver in 
 their belief that Waupello would emerge unharmed and 
 victorious in his eventual encounter with the Piasau. 
 
 Waupello immediately set about making careful 
 preparations for the destruction of the Bird of Evil. 
 He first saw to it that his bow was perfect in shape and 
 fiber and that the cord was the very best that could be 
 made. With Minno he went to the foot of the great 
 cliff where the Piasau dwelt. The cave in which the 
 Bird of Evil was supposed to make its nest was midway 
 in the perpendicular face of an immense rock that rose 
 from a shelf in the face of the cliff, nearly an arrow's 
 flight from the beach below.
 
 The Death of the Piasau 159 
 
 To reach this shelf by scaling the face of the cliff 
 was impossible, and Waupello, in order that he might 
 attack the monster in its stronghold, decided to be 
 lowered from the top of the cliff by means of leather 
 thongs. Minno and Pakoble were not inclined to favor 
 this plan, and pleaded with the boy to wait until the 
 Piasau came forth of his own accord, when he might be 
 destroyed with less danger to Waupello. But Waupello, 
 now that the Arrow was in his hands, would listen to no 
 suggestion of delay, and the others were forced to 
 abide by his decision. 
 
 Wanahta and Mantowesee therefore set to work 
 braiding a cable of the strands of the deerskin, with 
 which to lower Waupello to the shelf in midair. Sev- 
 eral days were required for this task, but finally it was 
 completed, and the long, slender cord that would have 
 sustained the weight of a buffalo bull was brought to 
 Waupello. 
 
 Meanwhile, the building of the canoes, which had 
 ceased with the loss of the Arrow, was once more 
 resumed, for the Arctides were confident Waupello had 
 told them nothing but truth, and they looked anxiously 
 forward to the day when they should embark for the 
 journey to the land of perpetual summer. 
 
 Early one morning Waupello arose, and after re- 
 ceiving the blessing of the sun and burning incense to 
 the Great Spirit, he took the Wonderful Arrow and 
 stole quietly out of the lodge without awakening Minno.
 
 160 A Child of the Sun 
 
 At the outskirts of the village he found Wanahta and 
 Mantowesee waiting for him, carrying his deerskin 
 cable, and without a word the three went away through 
 the forest toward the cliff where dwelt the Piasau. 
 Waupello had told no one on which day he had decided 
 to attack the monster, so that provided he was unable 
 to find the bird the people would not suffer another 
 disappointment. 
 
 But Singing Bird, who was always up with the birds, 
 saw the three friends going through the forest, Wanahta 
 carrying the cable and Mantowesee the bow of Wau- 
 pello, and divining their mission, she ran to the village 
 to tell Pakoble. As Singing Bird passed the medicine- 
 man's lodge she almost ran into Wahwun and Shan- 
 gadaya standing at the entrance to the Chamber of 
 Mysteries. The Old One was pleading and threaten- 
 ing by turns, while the medicine-man, shaking his 
 snakeskin bag before him as if for protection, was try- 
 ing to drive the witch away. The Old One, seeing 
 Singing Bird, raised her staff threateningly, and the 
 frightened child ran as fast as she could to the lodge 
 of Pakoble, where she fell sobbing into the arms of 
 the Rose. 
 
 Pakoble soothed the child and drew from her the 
 story of her morning's adventure. 
 
 When the mother learned that Waupello had gone 
 to make the attack on the Piasau her heart trembled
 
 The Death of the Piasau 161 
 
 with anxiety for his safety, for now she realized fully 
 the danger of the undertaking. 
 
 Shangadaya's actions added to her fears, for the 
 Old One had the powers of a meta and hated Waupello 
 beyond every one else. 
 
 To Minno the Rose hastened to repeat what Sing- 
 ing Bird had told her, and soon the villagers were made 
 aware of the importance of the hour, and assembled to 
 renew their offerings and plead with the Great Spirit 
 for the boy's success. 
 
 Having finished this duty, they went quietly but 
 hopefully to the beach below the cliff, wherein the den 
 of the Piasau was, and turning their faces to the sun 
 for the blessing, breathlessly awaited the appearance 
 of Waupello. 
 
 Just as the sun reached the zenith Waupello ap- 
 peared on the apex of the cliff. How small and slender 
 he appeared, outlined against the sky. Like the voice 
 of the southwind a sigh went up from the people 
 crowding the beach, the warriors trembled and the 
 women hid their faces. Those brave enough to look, 
 saw Waupello stretch forth his hands and lift his face 
 to receive the blessing. Then Wanahta and Manto- 
 wesee appeared, and after adjusting the noose about 
 Waupello's body and giving him his bow, they lowered 
 him over the face of the cliff, and he swung clear of the 
 rocks, descending quickly to the shelf below.
 
 i6 2 A Child of the Sun 
 
 The moment he felt the firm rock under his feet 
 Waupello cast off the noose, and it was drawn up as he 
 had ordered. Then throwing aside his quiver which he 
 had swung at his shoulder, that his every movement 
 might be free, Waupello, his beautiful brown body 
 glistening in the sun, holding fast to the Arrow of the 
 Sun, turned his face toward the cave where the Piasau 
 dwelt, and cried: 
 
 "Bird of Evil, Waupello has come to meet you. 
 Waupello, a child of Hasihta. Waupello, a child of 
 the Sun! Come forth, O dreaded Piasau, come forth 
 to the bow of the morning, come forth to the Arrow of 
 light." 
 
 Waupello's voice in its purity and sweetness fell like 
 drops of sparkling water on the hearts of the people 
 far below, and a sense of assured rest came to them, 
 and they all gazed upward, confident of the result. 
 
 A rumble like the tramp of many buffalo answered 
 the boy's challenge. The sound was so strange and 
 terrible that all the people fell upon their faces, and 
 Waupello alone stood up to face the monster. 
 
 The roaring increased in volume, and then with a 
 sound like the rushing of many winds, the Piasau darted 
 from the mouth of the cave, and spreading its immense 
 green wings and opening wide its hideous mouth, it 
 reared its fearful form before Waupello. From its 
 eyes shot fan-shaped shafts of fire and its teeth shone 
 white and murderous behind its grinning lips.
 
 The Death of the Piasau 163 
 
 Then the clear-eyed boy, standing fair and straight 
 in the warm sunshine, quickly fitted the Arrow of the 
 Sun to his bowstring, and drawing it to the head let fly 
 full in the face of the monster. 
 
 The shaft sped straight to the mark, and as it struck 
 against the hard scales of the bird there was a dazzling 
 flash of light, a quiver shook the giant form of the 
 Piasau, followed instantly by a dark red glow over the 
 entire surface of the monster. The color changed 
 rapidly from red to pink, then to pale blue, then to 
 white, until the bird from tip to tip of its widespread 
 wings was a transparent mass of liquid fire. The heat 
 thrown off by the glowing mass was so intense that 
 Waupello's hair crisped and his bowstring snapped 
 asunder. Then the light of the bird's body changed to 
 a dull ashen color and disappeared altogether, and 
 there remained only a handful of charred bones scat- 
 tered over the rock where the Piasau had stood but a 
 moment before. 
 
 But when Waupello's eyes, which had been nearly 
 blinded by the heat and the dazzling light of the burn- 
 ing bird, were clear again, he saw seared deep into the 
 face of the cliff where the Bird of Evil had stood the 
 perfect figure of the Piasau.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE DEPARTURE 
 
 The Long River was alive with canoes; from the 
 bend below the cliff where the brook from the Sacred 
 Spring emptied into the river, the shore-line as far as 
 the eye could see was bordered with canoes. Now 
 down from the village of Arctides came the roll of the 
 ceremonial drums and the happy chant of thanksgiving. 
 Nearer and nearer came the music, and then out of the 
 cool, green forest to the pleasant meadow-land moved 
 the children of Arctides. At their head marched 
 Waupello, his robe of white beaver trailing gracefully 
 from his young shoulders, his brows bound with the 
 chaplet of wampum. The prophet came next, erect and 
 strong again, his ceremonial robes lending to the old 
 man an air of supreme majesty. Mantowesee, holding 
 aloft the Shield of the Sun, walked in the rear of the 
 prophet. 
 
 Then came Pakoble and Singing Bird, followed by 
 Wanahta and Meeme. Wahwun, resplendent in eagle 
 plumes, buffalo-horns, and rich fur robes, and with his 
 medicine-bag held before him, moved proudly along. 
 And there was Tioma, too, newly illustrated for the 
 
 164
 
 The Departure 165 
 
 occasion, his big voice sounding above all the others 
 the glad chant of the people. 
 
 Following these came a procession of the faithful 
 bearing on frames constructed of cedar and buffalo- 
 hides the sacred relics of the Council Chamber. 
 Others carried the ceremonial and war drums and 
 numerous gourds and skin rattles, the music of which 
 filled the soft air with pleasing sounds. 
 
 The imposing procession filed into the plain, the 
 people of Arctides bringing up the rear, chanting songs 
 of gladness. 
 
 When Waupello reached the shore the procession 
 halted, while Minno invoked the blessing of the sun. 
 Then Waupello, stepping into the beautiful canoe the 
 hands of love had fashioned, turned to the people, and 
 lifting up his clear, sweet voice said: 
 
 "Children of Arctides, the day of your trial is over. 
 The future is bright before you. The Bird of Evil is 
 slain, and your captive, who brought you but grief, you 
 have sent her away to her people. 
 
 " We go to the land of the Sun, to the country of 
 fruits and of flowers, where the skies are pleasant and 
 smiling, to the land of perpetual summer. 
 
 " Farewell to the cold and the snow, farewell to the 
 land of Arctides!" 
 
 Then all the people embarking in their canoes, the 
 journey down the Long River was begun. 
 
 In the canoe with Waupello was Minno. Pakoble
 
 i66 A Child of the Sun 
 
 and Singing Bird. The boy, standing at the prow, 
 looked thoughtfully back upon the canoes following in 
 a long unbroken line, their moving paddles glistening 
 in the sunlight. 
 
 And high over the head of Waupello sailed the Bird 
 of Beautiful Plumage, while across the peaked prow of 
 his canoe shone the Word of the Wonderful One. 
 
 THE END.
 
 THE BOY, STANDING AT THE PROW, LOOKED THOUGHT- 
 FULLY BACK UPON THE CANOES FOLLOWING IN A LONG, UN- 
 BROKEN LINE.
 
 PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY 
 AND SONS COMPANY AT THE 
 LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.
 
 
 X 
 
 8
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 MAR l o 1959 
 
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