The girl stood in front of me, the wampum belt in her hand. A deep flush was upon her face, and she bent her head for a moment in embarrassment, for the whole crowd was gazing at her in silence. For an instant she stood thus, twisting the girdle nervously in her hand, and then she raised her face. It was transfigured and glorified by the light of a great love--a love that would face all things and undergo all agony or sorrow for the sake of the one she loved; that could endure the cold gaze of the world, and fear it not, happy in the knowledge of the light within. Who counted all things as naught compared with this. I had heard often of the love of some frail woman, who would face death calmly and unafraid, would endure the thumbscrew and the stake with a smile upon her face and a song within her soul, for the sake of one she loved, and I had doubted the story; but as I looked upon the face of this Indian maiden, I knew that such things as these could be, that here was one who would die for me, if needs be, because she loved me. "It is a custom," she murmured softly, so softly that I had to bend my head to catch the faint sound, "that the maiden who wins the girdle should bestow it upon some valiant warrior. I know of no warrior who is more worthy to wear it than the Eagle, who at the risk of his own life dared to rescue an Indian maid." And with that she bent forward shyly, and with fingers that trembled fastened the blue wampum belt around my waist. [Illustration: "I Know of No Warrior Who is More Worthy to Wear It than the Eagle"] I dared not look around me, as she bent her dark head over the clasp, her hair just brushing my face. For an unconscionably long time, it seemed to me, she fumbled over it, and then with a little sigh of satisfaction, she straightened up. "There," she said, with a nervous laugh. "Winona," I said gravely, for in truth I was in the most awkward position in which I had ever been placed, "the Eagle thanks thee for thy courtesy, and will wear the belt always to remind him of thee. It will be a bright spot in his life, which he will cherish, when he has returned again to his own far distant country." And extending my hand, I caught her little brown one in mine, and carrying it to my lips as though she were some princess, I kissed it. She flushed again happily, her dark eyes soft with light as she looked at me. The sullen voice of Chawanook rang out behind me: "And so the daughter of a great chief stoops to bestow her love upon a nameless dog of a captive!" The girl had raised her head proudly at his words, for there flowed in her veins the blood of a line of savage chiefs. She answered him scornfully: "If Chawanook would meet his fathers let him face the Eagle alone in yon ring. As for me," and her voice rang out clear and full, "my love is my own, to bestow where I will; it shall never be given to such as Chawanook." The young brave answered angrily: