na" means "the snow-white one,"
and those who knew her well, and studied her quiet, gentle manner, said
she was well named. The terrible loss of her children had been such a
shock that her once black, luxuriant tresses had become as white as the
snow, making her name more impressive than ever before.

The story of how he had obtained his wife Kinesasis was induced to tell
one evening at Sagasta-weekee, when fierce winds were howling around the
place and at times seemed to strike with such fury against the house
that they appeared like wild beasts shrieking for their prey. As a
general thing Kinesasis was not very communicative on matters relating
to himself, but as Mrs Ross, who had some knowledge of how he had
obtained his wife--indeed, her mother had a little to do with its
consummation--had asked him to tell it for the pleasure of the boys and
some good friends who had come over for a day or two from the mission,
he could not refuse.

The great log fire roared in the large fireplace in the dining room,
while round it gathered the expectant listeners. Mrs Ross had sent
over to Kinesasis's little home and had brought from thence Shakoona,
his wife. She was now, like Kinesasis, getting up in years, yet she was
the same shy, clever, modest, retiring woman she had ever been, and yet,
as will be seen, there was that latent courage in her that mother's love
can best bring out. The inevitable pipe had to be produced and gravely
smoked by Kinesasis, and those who would smoke with him, ere the talking
could begin. When this ceremony was over Kinesasis, looking kindly at
Shakoona, began:

"We had been children together in the forest. Our fathers' wigwams were
not far apart. With other Indian children we had played in the wild
woods, among the rocks and on the shores of the great lakes. When large
enough to help I had to go and try my skill in setting snares for the
rabbits and partridges and other small game. The trail along which I
used to travel each morning, as I visited my snares and traps, was the
one in which I often found little Shakoona getting sticks for the fire
in her father's wigwam. He was a stern man and cruel, and very fond of
gain.

"The years rolled on, and I was now a hunter, and could use the bow and
arrows of my forefathers, as well as the gun of the white man, which was
now being brought into the country. Shakoona was now grown up, and was
no longer a child. We often met, and let it be know