“The Sunflower shall look upon him no more—no more dazzle the White Bear with the glare of her beauty,” answered the youth. “Far from this Wawandah shall erect his tent, and alone. No one but his wife shall know where he dwells, or share his solitude. He has no thought but of her. While she gladdens his sight with her presence, he will ask no more of the Spirit of Good. The camp is scarcely yet at rest. An hour before the dawn we will depart; and when the sun rises its fairest flower will have traveled far from the tent of the White Bear forever.” “The heart of the Sunflower is full of gladness,” said the latter. “Never does she wish to behold the face of another warrior but Wawandah. She loves him because he has so long loved herself. Ah, how much must she love him, when she leaves the tent of the White Bear forever to fly with him. It is very wicked this. The Good Spirit will punish her, but her love for Wawandah is too great. She has not power over herself. She would not stay if she could. And now it is too late.” At an hour before dawn Wawandah went stealthily forth. All was stillness in the camp, and only here and there was to be seen the flickering of some expiring fire, while the low growl of the dog, too vigilant to be quite silent, and yet too lazy to bark outright, greeted him as he passed outside the skirt of his encampment. Presently he arrived at an open space or sort of oasis in the forest, where were tethered many horses with great blocks of wood fastened to one of the fore fetlocks. Selecting two of the best looking and best conditioned of these, he put bridles upon them, and removing the unwieldy clogs, led them back to the door of the wigwam of the White Bear. This time the dogs did not suffer themselves to be disturbed. They seemed to recognize the horses, and to know that he who led them was of the tribe to the masters of which they belonged, and that the doubt they had in the first instance entertained no longer had existence. Leaving the horses standing quietly at the entrance, Wawandah went in. The Sunflower had put together every thing that could be conveniently placed in two bundles, and then, having thrown the rude saddles on the horses, Wawandah now fastened one to each crupper. The Sunflower was dressed in leggings of blue and the moccasins she was making when first Wawandah entered the tent. A man’s black hat, with a white plume thrust through the band, was upon her head, and a mantle of blue cloth, fastened by a large silver brooch, upon her shoulders. Her linen was white as the snow, and altogether her great beauty was adorned with the richest articles of her limited wardrobe, and in a manner befitting the occasion. While Wawandah, too, decked himself in his best and secured his faithful weapons and companions of the chase, she cut from the long hair she loosened for the purpose, a large tress, which she tied near the root with a blue ribbon, and fastened it to a nail within the wigwam door.