“Oh! you cannot think the Shoyahpee so bad!”
“I hate him as a snake! He crawls in the grass with poison fangs! He lurks by the bubbling spring to strike with blight the heart of the confiding Indian maiden! He hides in the darkness to catch her unaware! He is a trapper of women! The eagle loves the fawn because its flesh is tender! His plumage may be beautiful, but beware of the rending talons and beak! If you marry in your own class, the mixed blood, I will gladly bless you with the Great Indian Spirit. I will divide with you my money which I am to receive from the Big White Chief for the forests belonging to my ancestors. I will give you horses and cattle. But if you take this Shoyahpee, I will forget that I ever had a grandchild.”
Stemteemä smoothed the little brown hand, but it lay limp and lifeless within her own. During the rest of her stay, Cogewea showed none of her old-time spirit of gaiety. Tears filled her eyes and suppressed sobs heaved her breast. The truly tender hearted grandmother was grieved and tried to comfort her, but she was firm in her determination to oppose the hated Shoyahpee of the “luring voice.” Her devoted love for her favorite grandchild forbade any compromise. Death would be preferable to a marriage with such a man.
With hardly a word of parting to the Stemteemä, Cogewea lifted the door flap and went out into the cool night air. Her heart seemed lead. She knew that the grandmother meant right in her opposition, but she could not overcome the dreadful thought of parting with the pleasing Easterner. She halted outside the teepee and lifted her face to the eastern sky, as though in prayer, or appeal. The moon was just peeping over the Rockies.
“Oh! the same old moon that has shone over my happiness now seems to laugh at my sorrow! It must ever light different trails for the Indian and the Shoyahpee! Fate has dealt me a blow, such as I never thought could come!”
Her reverie was interrupted by Densmore coming from the shadows. They turned toward the house and went out of ear shot of the teepee.
“Cogewea! you are not going to let a little thing like that interfere with our marriage, are you?”
“Oh! I do not know!” she answered dazedly. “Don’t you think it best that we try forget the past and start a new life of other interests? I believe it would be better for both of us.”
“Now look here! You make things just miserable by thinking it wrong for the whites and Indians to intermarry. You must remember that you are only part Indian, and what is the difference so long as we love each other what the third party thinks?”
“Yes! that may be true but I have family ties to consider. The word of my Stemteemä has been law to me all my life. I have coaxed her into letting me do things against her wishes, but I never deliberately disobeyed her; and now I have not the heart to do this without her full consent.”
“Do not be foolish! Do not get that into your little head, poor child!” He attempted to embrace her but she held him off. “I am sure that everything will come out all right, if only we get married. What can your people do else than compromise and permit things to go just as all others have done? A daughter elopes, comes home in tears and asks forgiveness. The old man usually goes into a rage, while the dear mamma comes to the rescue with the Bible, reads the admonitory verse of ‘go and sin no more,’ and the commendatory about ‘forgiving thy neighbor,’ and lo! everything is smoothed over like icing on a cake. Your grandmother will forget her objections and maybe make you a handsome wedding present when she sees how happy you are with me. She means right, the good old soul; and I will have her loving me fit to kill before many days, after once I am really in the family.”
Cogewea remained silent, evidently debating within herself the proper course to pursue. Noting this indication of progress, the arch conspirator continued:
“The Stemteemä is naturally solicitous about your future welfare and I admire her for the stand she takes. But her deep anxiety prevents her from seeing the true conditions. You should remember, too, that your grandmother is very old and incapable of understanding modern ideas and the changing conditions as can a younger person whose mind is not burdened with a century of snows. After all, is it not the inalienable right, as recognized in all reason, for everyone to choose their own path in life? In pursuing this prerogative, you are not reflecting on the wisdom of the well meaning grandmother, nor are you wholly casting her aside. Even the profoundest of philosophers are sometimes mistaken, and why may she not be, especially when swayed by such strong racial antipathy, even though admitting that such may be well founded? What do you say? Let’s elope! Go tomorrow—or tonight—if we can effect arrangements. What is your answer?”
Swayed by a surge of conflicting emotions, this girl of a “branded” sphere, exclaimed pathetically:
“Could it—will everything come out all right—do you think? Will Stemteemä forgive me—take me back again—do you think?”
“Why of course! little sweetheart! You are only nervous tonight. Our grandmother will forgive both of us and will be glad to do so when she hears that you are Mrs. Alfred Densmore instead of—”
“Oh! will she? Will she really do that? Do you honestly think it right to elope—to sneak away and
