welcome below. When swollen by rains the
rocks were all hidden, the perpendicular fall disappeared, it was as
if the Great Salt Lake were pouring down the side of the mountain,
and from top to bottom was all one vast mass of foam, lashing the
huge rock at the throat, around which the torrent turned with a sudden
bend. No canoe could live on such a cataract. It must be overturned
and engulfed long before reaching the bottom, or if those perils were,
by any wonderful chance, escaped, inevitable destruction awaited the
presumptuous adventurer, dashed against the rock at the bottom.

The lovers of Leelinau gazed at the Fall, but the more they considered
the less inclination they felt to encounter the danger. In a low stage
of the water the canoe would be overturned, and pierced by the sharp
rocks, while mangled limbs certainly, if not death, must be the doom
of the rash aspirant, and who would dare to brave the terrors of the
swollen river?

The eyes of Leelinau were bright, and her smile sweet, but there were
other maidens with bright eyes and sweet smiles, and less difficult to
please.

But not thus felt Magisaunikwa. The absorbing passion swallowed up
all considerations of prudence, and he resolved to undertake the
adventure. If he perished, the Great Spirit would be pleased with his
courage, and what was life without Leelinau? While thoughts like these
passed through his mind, he remembered Manabozho. He had assisted him
once, although in vain, why not a second time? He sought once more
the recesses of the forest, where he had met him, and called upon his
name, but no answer was returned. He kindled a fire and threw upon
it the fragrant tobacco, and called again, "Ho! Manabozho!" and the
majestic figure stood before him, but there was anger on his brow. To
his stern demand the hunter made known what had happened, and begged
his assistance. But the Manito showed no disposition to grant it. In
fact, the task was beyond his powers, but he was unwilling that it
should be known.

"Fool!" he said, "is a scornful squaw worth the hazard of death and
the shame that attends defeat? Seek thy lodge and blow away these
thoughts as the wind disperses the winged seeds of the stinging
nettle." It was evident Manabozho had never been in love, for then he
would not have thrown away his advice. He stayed not for a reply, but
with a gesture of disdain disappeared.

Wampum-hair sought his wigwam, melancholy but not discouraged. It
wa