she should become my wife; she should keep
my wigwam; we would always love one another. She grew up, and the
chief offered many horses for her. Her father took them. She became
the chief's wife, and all my heart withered up. Everything grew dark.
I sat in my wigwam or wandered in the forest, caring for nothing.

"When I met her, she turned her face aside, for was she not the wife
of another? Yet I knew her heart hungered for me. The chief knew it
too, and when he spoke to her a cloud was ever on his brow and sharp
lightning on his tongue. But she was true. Whose lodge was as clean as
his? The wood was always carried, the water at hand, the meat cooked.
She searched the very thought that was in his heart to save him the
trouble of speaking. He could never say, 'Why is it not done?' But her
heart was mine, and he knew it; and he treated her like a dog and not
like a wife.

"Me too he tried to tread under foot. One day we assembled to hunt the
buffalo. Our horses were all collected. Mine stood before my tent, and
he came and took them away, saying that they were his. What could I
do? He was a chief.

[Illustration: _The Great "Witch Mountain" of the Indians._]

"I came no more to the council, I shared no more in the hunt and the
war-dance. I was unhorsed, degraded, dishonored. He told his wife what
he had done, and when she wept he beat her.

"One evening I stood on a knoll overlooking the meadow where the
horses were feeding; the chief's horses were there, and mine with
them. I saw _him_ walking among them. The sight maddened me; my blood
burned; I leaped on him; with two blows I laid him dead at my feet. I
covered him with earth and strewed leaves over the place. Then I went
to _her_ and told her what I had done, and urged her to fly with me.
She answered only with tears. I reminded her of all she had suffered,
and told her I had done only what was just. I urged her again to fly.
She only wept the more, and bade me go. My heart was heavy but my eyes
were dry.

"'It is well,' I said, 'I will go alone to the desert. None but the
wild beasts of the wilderness will be with me. The seekers of blood
will follow on my trail; they may come on me while I am asleep and
slay me, but you will be safe. I will go alone.'

"I turned to go. She sprang after me. 'No,' she cried, 'you shall not
go alone. Wherever you go I will go: you shall never part from me.'

"While we were talking, one who had seen me slay the chief and had