er,' said an old chief, who had stayed in camp, `our
enemies are young and active; they will quickly overtake us before we
meet our men.'

"`No,' said my mother, `I will stop them. Get ready, and set off
quickly.'

"She then ran back on her trail--my mother was a tremendous runner--
superb! She came to a narrow place where our enemies would have to
pass. A very thick tree grew there. She climbed it, and hid among the
branches. It projected beyond a precipice and overhung a stream. Soon
after that she saw the enemy advancing, step by step, slowly,
cautiously, like men who dread an ambush, and with glances quick and
solemn from side to side, like men who see a foe in every stump and
stone."

La Certe paused at this point. He was an adept at story-telling. His
voice had slowed by degrees and become increasingly deep and solemn as
he proceeded.

"Now," continued he, in a higher tone, "my mother did not fear that they
would see her if they looked up when they passed the tree. She was too
well hidden for that; but she was not sure what the effect of her voice
would be, for she had never tried it in that way before. However, she
was full of courage. She resembled me in that--bold as a lion! She
began to sing. Low and soft at the beginning, like a dream of song.

"At the first note the Indians halted--every man; each in the position
in which he was fixed. If a foot was up he kept it up. If both feet
were down he left them down. The feet that were up came slowly to the
ground when the Indians got tired, but no one took another step. My
mother's voice was a weird voice. It sounded as if the place from which
it came was nowhere--or anywhere--or everywhere! Slowly the painted
heads turned from side to side as far as they could go, and the glaring
eyes turned a little further. A creeping fear came over them. They
trembled. They turned pale. That could be easily seen through the
paint. My mother saw it! She became more courageous and sang out in
her most pathetic strain. The Indians wept. That was quite visible.
My mother saw it. Her great object was to delay the attack until our
men had time to arrive. She tried a war-song, but that was not so
successful. It was too commonplace. Besides, in her energy she shook
the branches, and that drew attention to the tree. My mother thought
that she was in danger then; but fortune favoured her. It always
favours the brave. I know this from experience.