"There too," she answered; "all are gone, my father, but you and me. I knew how the rocks lay, and where I could hide myself, and there I stayed, hearing my mother's cries, and my brothers' shouts, as they died. I saw, too, the Chippeways, as they carried away the scalps. When you are gone what will become of me? Who will care for Wenona?" "Not Wenona," said her father, "but 'The Lonely One.' That will be your name when you will have neither father nor brother left. But see," continued the old man, "our enemies' blood! Your brothers fought well: they have already passed the warriors' road to the City of Spirits." His breath came quickly--big drops stood on his forehead--another struggle--a last sigh--and Wenona was indeed "the lonely one." The attack of the night before had not been unexpected. The Sioux had placed pickets around their village, and a guard had been kept; but their enemies were too wily for them. The violent storm that raged during the battle was favourable to the Chippeways; they were upon the Sioux ere the watches had heard the slightest sound, except the wind, and the peals of thunder that shook the earth. Some escaped with their families from the lower end of the village, but almost all who remained to fight for their families were massacred with them. While Wenona awaited the struggle, she was overcome with fear and excitement; but now she was as one without hope. The blow had been struck. Chippeway and Sioux had fallen in the death-struggle, locked in the embrace which bound foe to foe. She had given her heart's devoted love to one whom she must now consider as her enemy. Sounding Wind, a noble young Chippeway, handsome in person, and already favoured among his own people, had promised to take her to his wigwam when the two nations were at peace, though there were many then who foreboded the strife that would rend the ties of friendship between the nations. Even after hostilities had commenced, Sounding Wind had sworn to himself the woman he loved should be his wife, though every brave in the nation might stand between him and the accomplishment of his vow. Wenona, as she rose from her father's body, gazing upon the scene of terror before her, looked like the flower beside her, which still reared its head, though its fair companions were all crushed to the earth by the storm of the night. Silence and death reigned here--nature was as tranquil as the hearts of her children. Near by swept the lake of the thousand isles: undisturbed were its waters; there was no requiem for the dead, even in the passing breeze.