his long journeys, and, now that the
interpreter was growing old, remained true to him. The three stood
there, looking down on the long mirror of the Mississippi--Black Hawk,
Main-Pogue, and Waubeno--and waiting for Jasper to speak.

"I have come to bring you peace," said Jasper--"not the silence of the
hawk or the bow-string, but peace here."

He laid his hand on his breast, and all the Indians did the same.

"I am a man of peace," continued Jasper. "If any one should seek to slay
me, I would not do him any harm. I would forgive him, and pray that his
blindness might go from his soul, and that he might see a better life.
You welcome me, you are true to me, and, whatever may happen, I will be
true to your race."

The black chief bowed, Main-Pogue, and the boy Waubeno.

"I believe you," said Black Hawk. "Your face says 'yes' to your words.
The Indian's heart is always true to a friend. Sit down; eat, smoke the
peace-pipe, and let us talk. Sit down. The sky is clear, and the
night-bird cries for joy on her wing. Let us all sit down and talk. The
river rolls on forever by the graves of the braves of old. Let us sit
down."

The squaws brought Jasper some cakes and fish, and Black Hawk lighted
some long pipes and gave them to Main-Pogue and Waubeno.

"I have brought the boy here for you," said Black Hawk. "He comes of the
blood of the brave. Let me tell you his story. It will shame the
pale-face, but let me tell you the story. You will say that the Indian
can be great, like the pale-face, when I tell you his story. It will
smite your heart. Listen."

A silence followed, during which a few puffs of smoke curled into the
air from the black chief's pipe. He broke his narrative by such
silences, designed to be impressive, and to offer an opportunity for
thought on what had been said.

Strange as it may seem to the reader, the story that follows is
substantially true, and yet nothing in classic history or modern heroism
can surpass in moral grandeur the tale that Black Hawk was always proud
to tell:

"Father, that is the boy. He knows all the ways from the Great Lakes to
the long river, from the great hills to Kaskaskia. You can trust him; he
knows the ways. Main-Pogue knows all the ways. Main-Pogue was a runner
for the pale-face. He has taught him the ways. Their hearts are like one
heart, Main-Pogue's and Waubeno's.

[Illustration: BLACK HAWK TELLS THE STORY OF WAUBENO.]

"His father is dead, Waubeno's. Main-Pogu