ce and mobility were gone from her face, and it was
drooping and dull almost to impassiveness. She was only an Indian girl
now, waiting to learn the name of him who was to be her master.

"What is the name of the one you love? Speak it once, then never speak
it again."

"Snoqualmie, chief of the Cayuses," faltered her tremulous lips.

A quick change of expression came into the gaze that was bent on her.

"Now lift your head and meet your fate like the daughter of a chief.
Do not let me see your face change while I tell you whom I have
chosen."

She lifted her face in a tumult of fear and dread, and her eyes
fastened pathetically on the chief.

"His name is--" she clasped her hands and her whole soul went out to
her father in the mute supplication of her gaze--"the chief
Snoqualmie, him of whom you have thought."

Her face was bewilderment itself for an instant; the next, the sudden
light, the quick flash of expression which transfigured it in a moment
of joy or surprise, came to her, and she raised his hand and kissed
it. Was that all? Remember she had in her the deep, mute Indian nature
that meets joy or anguish alike in silence. She had early learned to
repress and control her emotions. Perhaps that was why she was so sad
and brooding now.

"Where have you seen Snoqualmie?" asked Multnomah. "Not in your
father's lodge, surely, for when strange chiefs came to him you always
fled like a frightened bird."

"Once only have I seen him," she replied, flushing and confused. "He
had come here alone to tell you that some of the tribes were plotting
against you. I saw him as he went back through the wood to the place
where his canoe was drawn up on the bank of the river. He was tall;
his black hair fell below his shoulders; and his look was very proud
and strong. His back was to the setting sun, and it shone around him
robing him with fire, and I thought he looked like the Indian
sun-god."

"I am glad it is pleasant for you to obey me. Now, listen while I tell
you what you must do as the wife of Snoqualmie."

Stilling the sweet tumult in her breast, she tried hard to listen
while he told her of the plans, the treaties, the friendships, and the
enmities she must urge on her husband, when he became war-chief and
was carrying on her father's work; and in part she understood, for her
imagination was captivated by the splendid though barbarian dream of
empire he set before her.

At length, as the sun was setting, one