"My heart weeps," murmured the girl; "but shall the bodies of my friends remain until night brings the wolves and hungry birds? Sounding Wind has forgotten the maiden who loves him. He told me our village should be safe; that he would talk like a wise man; that he would lead the Chippeways far away from us: that, as the little islands sleep peacefully in the lake through the long summer's day, so might I rest from fear for myself and for my friends. "I will go alone and find our people, that they may come and help me bury our dead. Why should I fear, when all who have loved me are gone, and he who once loved me would take my life as he would pierce the deer on the prairie?" Wearily she turned her steps, intending to go to the nearest village, avoiding the dead bodies at every step: yet her moccasins were red with blood, which, as she pursued her way, crimsoned the earth at her feet. The reverence that every Indian woman feels for all things connected with death, gave her courage to undertake the task before her. Every change in the scene brought with it some reminiscence: grief for the dead were connected with each, but there were thoughts of the living hard to bear. _Here_ had she sat with her mother, working with porcupine quills gay garments for her brothers. _Here_ had she stood and watched the canoe of her lover; here had he given her the charm which she still wore about her neck: it was to secure her from any accident till she had left her friends, and until the gods that the Chippeways worshipped were hers. She pursued her way; but as the waters became bright with the warm rays of the sun, and the pleasant breezes were wafted to the shore, a sense of oppression and fatigue overcame her. In vain she essayed to rouse herself to the task before her: it was, indeed, in vain, for at last she threw herself under a large tree, and yielded to the repose which exhausted nature demanded. She slept on for hours as calmly as if she could only remember and look forward to joy. Bright eyes were glancing before her--laughter greeted her ears, she was a child again in her dreams, and passing over the gay waters with her boy lover by her side. Sounding Wind, we have said, was already a man of consequence in his tribe; but he had refused to accompany the war-party of the preceding night, nor did he seek to hide his reasons. They had lived peaceably with the band that lived near the Lake of the Thousand Isles. While he was willing to resent the aggressions of the band that by treacherous acts had broken their faith, he would not assail those who had given them no cause of offence. A better reason was in his heart: the love he bore to Wenona was strong, even stronger than death; and could he raise a murderous tomahawk against her family? He was anxious to know the result of the attack on the Sioux. He met the Chippeways as, taking the trail by the river, they were on their way home.