for he was a man, and he loved the beautiful girl. But Indian etiquette forbade such a demonstration of sentiment, and with rare masterfulness he sat as immobile as a bronze god while the sobbing girl poured out an eloquent plea for the life of her brother. "O save my brother! Save him for me! Take another and save him!"
"I cannot, Wannetta," came in low, decisive tones; "I cannot. Quapama needs Talax. The old chief must have a brave, loving attendant in the land of Sah-la-tyee. He asked for Talax and I cannot keep him. The Great Sah-latyee will take care of him."
Crushed by failure of the attempt to save her brother, Wannetta drew her abundant hair over her face that others might not see her swollen eyes and returned to her place outside of the wall of skins. The wailing continued through the night, rising sometimes to the shrill tones of the beasts of the forests bereft of their mates. The weird tones of these wild people were like the voices of Nature blended in human cadences. At sunrise canoes were moored to the nearest bank of the river, and the body of the dead chieftain, robed in beautiful furs, was carried tenderly by strong men and laid in his own canoe. With it were placed all his personal belongings, a quantity of food, and finally, the Indian boy. Over all was spread the glossy black skin of his favorite horse, which a bullet had sent to the spirit world when his master's life went out. The other canoes were manned by stalwart braves, and this unique funeral barge was towed down the river to Memaloose Island, where the dead chief was gathered to his fathers. The unhappy captive, securely bound, was placed beside the bier and left to starve that he might still attend his captor whom he had served so faithfully.
When the young chief returned to the camp he saw a girlish figure lying prostrate on the turf in swoon-like abandonment. He must remember his dignity as chief now, and smothering the promptings of the lover, he entered his lodge with stately tread and seated himself on a sort of rude throne to receive the homage of his people. At night, when the encampment was wrapped in silence except for the moans of the sick and the movements of the attendant squaws, a slight figure stole to the river bank, loosened a canoe, and with muffled oars rowed toward the island of the dead. Wannetta was skilled in handling a boat, but knowing the long, long journey before her, she carefully conserved her strength. As she approached the island her heart sank at the uncanny stillness of this awesome place. She stole like a specter through the shadows until she reached the house of the dead, where she called softly, "Talax, are you there?" "Yes, my sister." This reassured, the girl crept in and clasped her brother in loving arms. The brave boy, who could face an awful doom with stoic compusure, was unnerved by loving sympathy and sobbed aloud. "Here, let me cut these thongs. "Can you stand? Now here is food and drink," and she laid before him camas bread and dried venison and a skin containing water. As the half famished boy devoured the food she told him she was going to plead again with Swift Eagle, and if he refused to save the boy she would do it alone. "He loves me, he will
