In her vision she saw a shining path like a silver cord and it led upward to an opening in the sky, where stood the Great Spirit, in a brilliant halo, encircled with glistening stars.
“Look at me,” saith the spirit, “my name is the Bright Blue Sky. I am the veil that covers the earth. Do not fear. You are a pure and dutiful maiden. You have come to the limit which mortals cannot pass. Now return. There is a conveyance for you. Do not fear to ride on its back, and when you get to your lodge, you must take that which sustains the human body.”
Segwuna saw a snow-white bird soaring like the frigate bird in the sky, and when she got on its back, she was wafted through the air,—her hair streaming behind,—and as soon as she arrived at her lodge her vision ceased.
Upon awakening, Segwuna arose and returned as fast as she could to her mother’s lodge, where she was fed cautiously by her mother. One could see that she had undergone a serious transformation. The same tall willowy form and elastic step were there, but the eyes had changed their innocent fawn-like gaze to a tense and determined far-away look that could be interpreted as seriousness and reflection combined.
She went about her duties around the wigwam as though some great task or burden were weighing her down. And well might those about her observe her changed manners, for she now deserted the company of her former playmates and took long and lonely walks through the deep woods,—resolving silently to serve the Great Spirit the rest of her life by rendering happy those whom she loved.
The Great Spirit of her forefathers had now wrought in her soul deep convictions of the duty that she owed to her mother, her brother, and especially to her kind young friend who lived in the great mansion-house. The stories that she had heard recited around the lodge’s fire of the presents made by the great white chief, James Greydon, to her people, surged through her mind. How kind and gentle he had always been to the Indians! her kinsfolk! Those were happy days before the white men had learned the beauties of their old home on the Monongahela! All the native traits of her race were aroused.
Many times she reasoned thus:
“I can never forgive an injury, nor can I ever forget hospitality and kindness. My heart bleeds to show the King, our father across the sea, what great wrong has been done my loved ones, when he sent the great white birds across the sea that caused the eagle to scream on high.
“My Manitou will bless his Segwuna and teach his daughter to show the King that when my sky was clear he ought not to send his warlike birds on the long journey across the water. The King’s warriors shall not prosper on this side of the great water. Segwuna, the handmaid of the Great Spirit, shall take her friends over the river, across which the King’s warriors can not pass. While her friends shall be happy and have plenty, from this time forth the King shall remain on the other side of the river and wither and die, because he was so avaricious.”
The small band of Indians at Dorminghurst learned to love and revere Segwuna. As she grew older she stored up the herbs of the forest and showed great skill in nursing and curing the young and old of lesser ailments.