“The smoke now faded away and there in a blaze of golden glory sat a maiden! Beautiful was she, beyond all the women Tu-toch-a-nu-lah had ever seen. She was not like the dusky, dark-eyed, raven-haired maidens of his tribe, for her skin was like the warm and radiant glow of the fiery setting sun on the calm still waters of the blue Pacific. Red were her cheeks like the roses of the valley. Her hair, like the ripened maize in autumn, fell over her white shoulders and about her lovely form as falls the sparkling spray of the beautiful cataract--the Bridal Veil, Po-ho-no--like golden water rippling over rocks of silver. Shining fair was her brow as though illumined by the pale, soft beauty of moonlight, and deep and dark was the liquid blue of her eyes, like the shaded pools of the verdant valley, far, far below. Small and shining was her foot, like a tuft of feathery snow twinkling through the boughs of the pines and firs in winter--like the spring of a fairy bow was its graceful arch. Over her dimpled, ivory shoulders fluttered two delicate wings of rose-like cloud. As his eyes fell upon her she called to him. Sweet and sad was her voice as the call of the night bird of the forest. “The Sachem sprang to his feet and stood and gazed in speechless wonder. The precious red calumet fell unheeded to the ground, whence it bounded off the rocky ledge and went clattering down to a fragmentary fate on the cruel jagged rocks below. “The beautiful maiden smiled upon him, and whispered softly as she held out her arms lovingly, entreatingly toward him. ‘I, thy Tis-sa-ack, am here. Oh, Tu-toch-a-nu-lah, come’--then gliding swiftly up the smooth and dangerous rocky dome, she vanished over its rounded top. “As springs the startled deer from his leafy covert in the woods, so, with heart aflame, sprang Tu-toch-a-nu-lah in pursuit of the lovely maiden. Swift and sure of foot was he like the panther of the mountains, alert was he of ear like the wolf of the prairie, keen was his eye as that of the eagle, yet hopeless was his pursuit. The soft and beautiful down from her snowy wings was wafted back, veiling her from his enamored eyes and enveloping him in a feathery cloud denser than the mist of the morning. When the mountain breeze had borne the obscuring cloud away and he could once more see, the maiden had disappeared. There was naught upon the dome but a rosy haze that was fast dissolving before the merciless rays of the Sun Father. Far below him he saw the smoke of the cheerful camp fires of his people--the people who loved him and whom he loved. But he turned again and gazed longingly at the rocky dome. “So fell the wise and mighty chieftain before the arrows of all conquering Love. He at last was as other men--touched by the divine fire. * * * * *