eek, which is a tributary of the Wisconsan,
there is a gigantic mass of stone presenting the appearance of a human
figure. It is so sheltered by the overhanging rocks, and by the sides
of the recess in which it stands, as to assume a dark and gloomy
character.

Has my brother--said the Indian chief to the traveller--ever heard how
a beautiful woman of my nation became an image of stone? If he has,
let him say so; if he has not, the Guard of the Red Arrows will tell
him the story.

Once upon a time, many, very many ages ago, there lived in my nation a
woman who was called Shenanska, or the White Buffalo Robe. She was an
inhabitant of the prairie, a dweller in the cabins which stand upon
the verge of the hills. She was the pride of our nation, not so much
for her beauty, though she was exceedingly beautiful, as for her
goodness, which made her beloved of all. The breath of the summer wind
was not milder than the temper of Shenanska, the face of the sun was
not fairer than her face. There was never a gust in the one, never a
cloud passed over the other. Who but Shenanska dressed the wounds of
the Brave when he returned from battle? who but she interceded for the
warrior who came back from the fight without a blow? yet who was it
encouraged him to wipe the black paint from the memory of his tribe by
brave deeds? It was she who dreamed the dreams that led to the
slaughter of the Sauks and the Foxes; it was she who pointed out the
favourite haunts of the deer and the bison. When the warriors returned
victorious from the field of blood, it was she who came out with songs
sweeter than the music of the dove; and, when they brought no scalps,
it was she who comforted them with stories of past victories, and
dreams of those which were yet to be. Before she had seen the flowers
bloom twice ten times, she had been by turns the wife of many
warriors, for all loved her.

At length, it became the fortune of our tribe to be surprised in our
encampment on the banks of the Kickapoo, by a numerous band of the
bloody and warlike Mengwe. Many of our nation fell fighting bravely,
the greater part of the women and children were scalped, and the
remainder were compelled to fly to the wilds for safety. It was the
fortune of Shenanska to escape from death, and perhaps worse evils.
When the alarm of the war-whoop reached her ear, as she was sleeping
in her lodge in the arms of her husband; she arose, and seizing her
lance, and bow and arrows,