the hill, under foliage so dense, she felt not the fast falling dew, as
breathless she waited the coming steps. From her safe hiding place she
saw the white plume of Grey Eagle waving over his happy, excited face,
as with his light elastic step he appeared first; erect and tall like
the cedars around him. Next came her father whose wrinkled countenance,
softened with paternal care and watchfulness, had long lost the
fierceness and native fire of his youth, followed closely by his chiefs.
He passed slowly along the trail, hardly daring to raise his eyes, it
being the death warrant to whomsoever they should fall upon. Suddenly
the bushes parted and the Fawn bounded into her father's arms. To
accurately describe the agony of this scene would be impossible;
consternation for a moment held them spell-bound; horror was pictured in
faces so long trained to conceal the workings of the mind, and for the
first time the Fawn remained uncaressed in her father's arms. Astonished
and grieved she turned to Grey Eagle; the light had fled from his face,
and his soul apparently; he seemed petrified and lifeless as the rock he
stood upon. Even the poor wolf, missing his usual attention, or from
some inexplicable cause, commenced to howl pitifully as he leaped from
one to another.

The spell was broken by a young chief not old enough yet to feel the
responsibility of the customs of his fathers, from which life nor death
would tempt older chief to deviate, hopefully exclaiming:

"It was the wolf the Sagamore's eyes fell upon first; it was the wolf
the Manitou sent. He wants him to put into the far off hunting ground."

For an instant, only an instant, hope flitted across the face of the
doting, and heart broken lover. With the stoicism so natural to these
people, they attempted to hide their grief, but too plainly their ill