The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-09-04

lay down dizzy in the bunk. covered me.
The family must have thought it was nat
ural sleep. But It was fainting collapse
Which took me more than once afterwards
as suddenly as blow on the head, when
my faculties were most needed. Whether
this was caused by the plunge upon the
rock or the dim life from which I had
emerged, I do not know. One moment I
saw the children, and mothers from the
neighboring lodges, more interested than
my own mother; our smoky rafters, and
the fire pit in the center Of unf1oored
ground; my clothes hanging over the bank.
and even a dog with his nose in the ket-
tie And then, as it had been the night
before, walked after many hours
By that time the family breathing sawed
the air within the walls, and a fine star
light showed through the open door, for
we had no window. Outside the oak trees
were pattering their leaves like rain, re-
woods. My bandaged head was very hot,
in that dark lair Of animals where the log
hunks stretched and deepened shadow.
If Skenedonk had been there I would
have asked him to bring me water, with
confidence in his natural service. The
chiefs family was a large one. but not to
me as SkenedOnk. The apathy of fra
ternal attachment never caused me any
pain. The whole tribe was held dear.
I striped off Doctor Chantry's unendur-
able bandages, and put on my clothes, for
there were brambles along the path. The
lodges and the dogs were still, and I crept
like hunter after game, to avoid wax
ing them. Our village was an irregular
camp, each house standing where its
owner had pleased to build it on the lake
shore. Behind it the blackness of wooded
wilderness seemed to stretch to the end of
the world.
The spring made distinct tinkle in the
=, Law N1et 1r0, rr1, In A
rank night sweetness of minis and other
lush plants mixed its spirit with the body
of leaf earth. I felt happy in being a
part of all this, and the woods were to me
as safe as the bed chamber of mother.
1t was fine to wallow, damming the span
Of escaping water with my fevered mead.
Physical relief and delicious shudder1ng
GOODNESS ran through me.
From that wet pillow I looked up and
| thought again Of what had happened that
day, and particularly Of the girl whom De
Chaumont had called Madame de Terrier
and Eagle. Every word that she had
spoken passed again before my mind.
Possibilities that I had never imagined
rayed out from my recumbent body as
from the hub Of a vast Wheel I was
white. I was not. an Indian. I had a
Bourbon ear. She believed I was dau-
phin. What was a dauphin. that she
should make a deep Obesience to 1t? My
father the chief, recommending me to the
squaws, had appeared to know nothing
about it.
All that she believed De Chaumont de-
MED. The rich book which stirred such
torment in me you know it was his
mother's," she Saddle Chaumont
thought merely coveted. I can see now
that the crude, half savage boy wallowing
in the spring stream, set that woman as
| high as the highest star above his head,
and made her the hope and symbol of his
| possible best.
A woman's long cry, like the appeal OF
| that one on whom he meditated, echoed
through the woods and startled him out OF
| his walloW.