"We must win," said Cortes, with a spark in his eyes like the flame in the heart of a black opal. "There is nothing else to do." NOTE In the spelling of the Aztec Emperor's name Cortes' own form is used,--"Moteczuma," instead of the commoner "Montezuma." One must read Prescott's "Conquest of Mexico" for even an approximately adequate account of this extraordinary campaign. MOCCASIN FLOWER Klooskap's children, the last and least, Bidden to dance at his farewell feast, Under the great moon's wizard light, Over the mountain's drifted white, The Winag'mesuk, the wood-folk small, Came to the feasting the last of all! Magic snowshoes they wore that night, Woven of frostwork and sunset light, Round and trim like the Master's own,-- Their lances of reed, with a point of bone, Their oval shields of the woven grass, Their leader the mighty Kaktugwaas. The Winag'mesuk, the forest folk, They fled from the words that the white man spoke. They were so tired, they were so small, They hardly could find their way back at all, Yet bravely they rallied with shield and lance To dance for Klooskap their Snowshoe Dance! Light and swift as the whirling snow They leaped and fluttered aloft, alow. Silent as owls in the white moonlight They pounced and grappled in mimic fight. When they chanted to Klooskap their last farewell He laid on the forest a fairy spell. From Little Thunder, from Kaktugwaas, He took the buckler of woven grass, The lance of reed with a point of bone, The rounded footgear like his own, And bade them grow there under the pines While the snowdrifts melt and the sunlight shines! The sagamore pines are dark and tall That guard the Norumbega wall. When the clear brooks dance to the flute of spring, And veery and catbird of Klooskap sing, The Winag'mesuk for one short hour Come back for their token of Klooskap's power-- Moccasin Flower! XII GIFTS FROM NORUMBEGA "What shall I bring thee then, from the world's end, Reine Margot?" asked Alain Maclou. The small girl in the deep fireside recess of a Picardy castle-hall considered it gravely. "There should be three gifts," she said at last, "for so it always is in Mere Bastienne's stories. I will have the shoes of silence, the girdle of fortune, and diamonds from Norumbega. Tell me again about Norumbega."