Gi-en-gwa-tah had instructed the Indians to make chairs and sofas for the new dwelling—rough seats of hewn wood; but Mahaska speedily hid their uncouthness with the rich cushions the Englishmen had brought. She arranged Gi-en-gwa-tah’s furs with excellent taste, draped the windows, and before the day broke, had restored every thing to order, and wrought a transformation so complete in the mansion that it seemed like the work of magic.
When all was prepared, she sought her canoe and rowed back to her lodge, to await the influence of her night’s work.
Early in the morning Mahaska was aroused by a crowd of women, who had left their wigwams early in order to witness the miracle which Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother had whispered abroad as likely to follow Mahaska’s removal to her stone house. They found the young chief preparing Mahaska’s canoe for an early sail to the stately residence. His wife had said nothing to him about her hopes of spiritual assistance in beautifying her residence; and, though he had heard the rumor, he deemed it only female gossip, which prevailed in that remote Indian village just as actively as it is to be found in our cities of the present day.
The sun was up, and cresting all the little wavelets on the lake with golden flashes, when Mahaska appeared in the door of her lodge. The women gathered around her, clamorous for information regarding her night-visions. She looked fresh and blooming as if she had spent the whole night in healthful slumber.
“Mahaska had beautiful dreams,” she said, smiling. “All night the prophet whispered great things in her ear. She is glad at heart.”
Gi-en-gwa-tah came up while she was speaking; he had cushioned her canoe with furs and lined it with scarlet cloth which fell over its edges like a fringe. It looked like a cradle on the soft swell of the waters, inviting her to enter. In his rude way, Gi-en-gwa-tah had furnished his rude dwelling, but he felt anxious, and dissatisfied with the effect. Could he have carpeted the floor with ermine, and made her couches of ebony, the generous savage would have done it. Indeed, the furs which he had lavished on her new home would have almost bought the furnishing of a palace; but their value was nothing to him so long as they remained only a type of savage life.
But Mahaska had no misgivings. Bright, cheerful and queenly, she stepped into the canoe and sat down among the furs, beautiful as Cleopatra in her barge. Gi-en-gwa-tah placed himself opposite her in the little craft, and, followed by a dozen other canoes, crossed to the slope of land on which the stone mansion was built. There a crowd met them—chiefs, warriors, and women—all forming a picturesque escort to the young couple as they left the canoe and walked up to the front entrance.
The door was opened by Gi-en-gwa-tah’s mother, who uttered a cry of delighted surprise as she crossed the threshold. Mahaska entered smiling, but the young chief paused in the first room, mute with astonishment. The walls, bare and black the night before, were now covered with brilliant hangings, which fell from light, gilded cornices; small carpets covered the center of the floor, and fur rugs were scattered about; the rude tables were overspread with gorgeously-wrought covers, and on the mantel were tall silver candlesticks, from which tapers of tinted wax beamed with a rich promise of light.
Mahaska turned to her husband, smiling:
“Mineto is good; he has sent his spirits to work for us in the night. This is not our palace, but a great medicine-lodge which we are to inhabit for the good of our people.”