“ ‘I turned away, and as I passed through the doorway, I heard my sister moaning:
“ ‘ “Goodbye, my brother! My own blood! But I love him, my pale faced god!”
“ ‘Not to hear more, I hurried to my own lodge. My heart was heavy with grief. I reached my teepee, where you were then a very small child; favorite of the youngest of my twelve wives. I sat gloomy with sorrow, my robe over my head.
“ ‘I never saw my pale faced brother-in-law again. I did not want to see him. I might kill him for the wrong he had done my sister. But it was my fault for giving her to him in the belief that he was superior to common man. I was ashamed for my folly! I sent my young men to help him get ready the canoes, but I would not go myself. I remained in my lodge, hidden from view.
“ ‘It was fourteen sundowns later, when I saw them carrying their goods to the river. I knew that they were leaving never to return among us and I was glad. But I saw Wan-na-ka, following her pale man—deserting her own people—as I then thought. As strong and brave as I was, death would have been easier than to watch her leaving forever.
“ ‘With a poor heart, I remained in my lodge. Wan-na-ka, my only sister, had not come to speak a last farewell. Maybe she hated me! Why had I given my flower to the blighter? Someone entered the doorway. I did not look up! I did not want to see anybody when my sorrow was heavy. My visitor stopped not at the vacancy kept near the entrance for those who might come, but stepped directly to my private robe where only the invited might sit.
“ ‘A touch was on my shoulder. I did not turn! But soon, a sob, low and smothered, caused me to lift my eyes. Wan-na-ka was standing at my side, weeping as Indians seldom weep. I took her hand, feeling happy as though she had returned from the dead. She would now remain with her own people. I asked her what was wrong, and she answered:
“ ‘ “Let me cry! I must feel better before I can talk.”
“ ‘All the rest of that day, Wan-na-ka sat mourning. In time, she talked and said that at the river, her pale husband had told her not to follow him. He did not want her in the canoe. I tried to show her that it was best to stay with her own kind, where all understood each other. When night fell, she went to her aunt’s lodge to sleep.
“ ‘It was again winter snow when Wan-na-ka brought to my lodge a little papoose, all wrapped in furs. She stood the cradle-board near me and bared the face of the baby, a boy. It was handsome, but light of skin as was its father. Wan-na-ka told me how the tribe’s greatest medicine man had foretold that if the boy lived, he would become a mighty chief, a great leader among the Schu-ayl-pk. But evil spirits, sent by the medicine men of the Blackfeet, were threatening the child with a strange sickness, which if it came, would prove fatal, for none could combat it.46
“ ‘The papoose grew for a time and my sister was less unhappy. She was glad to be the mother of the future benefactor of her tribe and race. Then when the nights grew longest, when the sun had wandered farthest from his summer trail, the trouble came. A gleaming star appeared within the lodge of the moon, and a raven flew circling above the teepee of Wan-na-ka.47
“ ‘The papoose of the whitened skin became sick. A great worship dance was held by our wisest medicine men, to try to kill or drive back the evil spirits. But the power of the Blackfeet was too strong. The life of Wan-na-ka’s child went out and there was wailing for a spirit flown.
“ ‘The baby was buried and my sister grew weakened with grief. It was many moons before she was strong, but she was never seen to smile or laugh. Ofttimes she went into the woods and there wailed for her papoose and for the one who had deserted her.48
“ ‘After two snows, warrior and chiefs from the wide neighboring tribes came and sought Wan-na-ka’s hand. She refused them all. Kee-lau-naw,49 a brave young chief rich in furs and shells, was one. I favored him among the many but I would not follow the old custom and give my sister against her will. I asked her why she would not again marry; why she refused so great a chief as Kee-lau-naw, who had taken many scalps of the Blackfeet. He was the best hunter among the Okanogans and would always supply her with plenty of meat and skins for clothing. Pointing to where the sun was sinking into the earth, she replied:
“ ‘ “My brother, my heart is there, gone with him! I can not call it back. Do not ask me to marry another. What warrior would care for Wan-na-ka, who prays only for the coming of the night we call death.”
“ ‘I understood! I spoke to her no more on the subject. One snow later, the Great Spirit called and Wan-na-ka was buried by the side of her
