Jasper County Democrat, Volume 10, Number 38, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 December 1907 — ”NIGHT WIND" [ARTICLE]

”NIGHT WIND"

"Come hither, my daughter. I would fain hold converse with you.” It was the great chief. Red Fox, who gave utterance to these words, and they were addressed to Night Wind, the most beautiful maiden of the Ogallala tribe. "What is It. father?” she asked, and gazed at the commanding figure of the chief with startled Interest, as if she feared to hear what be was about to say. And now, while we leave the chiet and bls daughter conversing together, let us take a cursory view of the region Immediately surrounding and note the picturesque attractiveness of the locality. It was an Ideal spot for iy> Indian village, for the tents were pitch ed In a majestic forest of great trees, overshadowing a smooth and grassy slope, at the foot of which flowed the upper Snake river. But to return to the- chief and bis daughter. The fair Night Wind listened with a palpitating heart to the words of her father. “Tomorrow Swift Arrow wHI return to our village, bringing us tokens ot victory the scalps of our hereditary foes, the Siskiyous,” said the chief. “He is now the second leader of our tribe, and when I, the great Red Fox, am gathered to my fathers and take up my eternal abode in the happy hunting grounds he, Swift Arrow, will be the first chief of the Ogallalas. She who Is now daughter of the great chief must be wife of the new chief.”

“No, dear father, no!” exclaimed Night Wind, sinking to her knees and lifting her hands in pitiful entreaty. “Swift Arrow is a great chief, but he is cold and cruel, and I can never love him.”

“I have given my solemn promise, and Red Fox always keeps his word.” “Let me go to him, and I will plead with him to release you,” said the beautiful maiden, clutching at her father’s arm with hands which were laden with ornaments of gold and precious shells.

“Why do you ask this?” demanded Red Fox, a heavy frown crossing his stern features. “Because, dear father, I love another.” “His name, girt!” “It is White Moccasin.” The eyes of Red Fox flashed ominously. “White Moccasin Is the son of Sleeping Buffalo, my some time foe,” said he.

“But he is brave and strong and handsome.” urged the maiden. “He has hunted in the forest and brought me the rarest of birds. He is the most expert of all the fishermen in the tribe. As an equestrian I am sure that he cannot be excelled by any of the young men of our acquaintance. Father, dear, I love White Moccasin, and I feel thnt life without him would be burdensome indeed.”

“Speak no further,” exclaimed the chief in great anger. “You shall mar ry a chief. Tomorrow he returns, and you shall go to his tent as soon as the

great piedicine man can perform the ceremony usual to such occasions. Retire to your tent, please, and let us hear no more foolish discourse in regard to White Moccasin.”

With a heavy heart Night Wind slipped into< the privacy of her own tent and gave herself up to the most sorrowful meditations. White Moccasin was away on the chase or she might have gone to him for comforting advice. All night she lay awake on her couch of soft furs.

In the morning she heard distant shouts and knew that Swift Arrow and the victorious members of the tribe were returning to the village. Subsequently she heard the war cries and the shrill incantations which accompanied the dance of triumph, but she did not go out to join In the festivities.

It was approaching dusk when she heard a rustling sound outside of the tent and a voice asked, “Night Wind, are you there?”

“Who is it?” she asked, considerably frightened. _ “It is your faithful lover, White Moccasin.”

With a glad cry she sprang from her couch, and together they fled to the river, where a canoe was moored. With set eyes and straining muscles the lover sent the boat flying with the swift current. But they were followed, and the pursuers, with two paddles, gained at every mile. Their shouts could be heard more distinctly, and when White Moccasin looked back he saw in one canoe the figure of Swift Arrow and in another the sinewy form of Red Fox. And now what sound broke on his ear? It was the thunder of the cataract ahead. If he stopped to make a landing be would be captured, whereas to stop and surrender would be Infamy. He called to Night Wind and said: “Listen. I will push the canoe ashore and fight them as they come. You escape.” v “No!” she shouted. “Let us die together!” “Night Wind, listen,” he entreated. With a sudden leap she wrested the paddle from his hands and threw it far overboard. The pursuers shouted In dismay. Red Fox loved his daughter and had not allowed his braves to fire at the flying canoe. White Moccasin and Night Wind stood erect in the canoe, clinging to each other and waving defiance to the old chief. A groan of mortal agony escaped Red FoX. At that moment his own canoe was safely grounded. He saw his daughter and the undaunted White Moccasin whirl through the moonlit vapors and disappear into the awful abyss of waters.