She came, at length, tripping toward the festive throng, and spoke to him ere the dance began, not by smile, or deed, or word, but in Cupid’s own appointed way, that never lies. He, as every other swain can do, read it in her eyes, and made answer in ways that do not make mistake.
When the circle had closed round the altar, the song of gladness broke forth from the lips of the tattooed and painted red chins, and from the drum of hoarser sound, and then the happy dancers, without waiting for partners, went with lithesome step in gay procession round. Louder rang the music, quicker grew the steps, each time round; the little invisible arrows flew from sailor-boy to Indian maiden, and from maiden to sailor-boy; glancing each against the other, would rustle and then go straight to target
sent, until at last the maiden tired grew, her bosom overladened with the arrows Cupid’s quiver had supplied. She bade the dancers stop, and with native grace, and stately step, she stood beside her lover without a thought of wrong; for she was Nature’s child, and had not felt the thongs of fashion’s code, which forbid her to be honest.
Her tiny hand was pressed between the hard palms of the captive sailor, for he had been fighting a battle where each is conquered only to be a conqueror.
Oneatta led the sailor-boy to join those who, with wondering eyes, had waited for her return. He took his place beside his tutor now, to learn how a step unused by tamer people might make speech for joy and gladness.
The dance was ended. Pale faces, and red ones, too, had lost sight of the stars, and were lulled to sleep by the rocking tides or muffled song of rippling waters, or by the breakers beating the rocky shores of Ya-quina.
Day followed day, and each had a history connecting it with its yesterday and prophesying for the morrow. The sailor-boy went not on duty now, for his “chummies” stood his watch. He spent much time at the e-li-he of the tree chief, or with Oneatta went out in a small canoe to watch the fishermen spear the fattened salmon.
Sometimes they rambled on the mountain side beneath the mansinetta trees, and exchanged lessons in worded language. He told her of his home, where cities and towns were like the forest of her native home; of people who outnumbered the stars above, and of bright-colored goods, of beautiful beads and
shells; and by degrees he won her consent to go from her native land, to leave country and kindred, all for the sake of the promised happiness he could give.
The sailor made confident of his captain, and glowing pictures painted of his princess, and what he would do with her when to his mother’s home he came.