White Moon's mother interfered, saying, "her daughter was a good girl, and deserved to be happy. She was not like the other girls, always running away to look among the rocks in the water for young beavers; but she was steady and industrious, and should make herself happy by marrying the man she loved." Fiery Man stamped, and his eyes were bloodshot with rage. He showed the parents his medicine-bag; he would make them know what it was to refuse a medicine-man; he would charm them; he would dry up the red rivers of life; he would make their steps feeble. Already would White Moon have trembled, had she been present. Fiery Man saw his advantage, and continued: he was the friend of Chat-o-tee-dah, the forest god, and he could go where no other Indian could, protected by this powerful friend. He was strong and brave, and it was well for the woman who married him, and for her family too. The old man had kept his eyes fixed on the gun. Fiery Man told him to follow him; he did so, but could hardly keep pace with the strides of the tall warrior. Fiery Man led him towards the lowlands, where, among the trees, the woodcock were in numbers. They seated themselves on a mound, the work of their more enlightened ancestors; they were quiet at first, only listening to the passing of the birds through the low trees. Fiery Man pointed the gun, and fired; the birds fell to the ground. The old man laughed, and Fiery Man showed him the powder and shot. He took the gun and explained to his companion the mode of preparing it to fire. "Ha!" said he, "you cannot shoot as well as I; but try and bring down one." The old man pointed, and fired; his aim was sure: again a bird fell before his astonished gaze. "It is yours," said Fiery Man, "and the girl is mine. We will go back and tell her mother what we have agreed upon." Again he led the way, and the old man followed him back to the wigwam. There they found mother and daughter. There were tears upon the cheek of the latter; she was soon to know how vainly they were shed. She turned away from the gaze of her tall lover, and hid her face against her mother's bosom. "Tell her," said Fiery Man to White Moon's father; but the old man knew of the bitter dregs he would stir up in the fountain of life before him: he could not find words to tell the young maiden her doom. Fiery Man could not brook the delay. He laid his brawny hand on the young head that had not yet been lifted from its refuge-place. "She is mine," he said to the mother; "I have bought her. That wakun gun is her father's, that red cloth is yours. White Moon must go with me to my lodge: she must give me warriors like myself for sons. She will be obedient and happy, because her husband is powerful, and feared." White Moon raised her head and looked in his face; for hope? as well might she have asked it in the glancing of the tomahawk of a Chippeway.