As she dressed herself, the unwelcome thought forced itself upon her,—“What if my love is killed by my own countrymen in their frenzy? This beautiful gown must then give place to a poor one, and this hair will be cut short!” for such is the mourning of the widow among her people.
The three rode openly down the long slope, and were instantly discovered by the people of the village. Soon the plain was black with the approaching riders. Stasu had begged her husband to remain behind, while she went on alone with the boy to obtain forgiveness, but he sternly refused, and continued in advance. When the foremost Ree warriors came within arrow-shot they began to shoot, to which he paid no attention.
But the child screamed with terror, and Stasu cried out in her own tongue:
“Do not shoot! I am the daughter of your chief!”
One of them returned the reply: “She is killed by the Sioux!” But when the leaders saw her plainly they were astounded.
For a time there was great confusion. Some held that they should all die, for the woman had been guilty of treason to her people, and even now she might be playing a trick upon them. Who could say that behind that hill there was not a Sioux war-party?
“No, no,” replied others. “They are in our power. Let them tell their story!”
Stasu told it simply, and said in conclusion:
“This man, one of the bravest and most honorable men of his tribe, deserted on the night of the attack, and all because he loved a Ree maiden! He now comes to be your brother-in-law, who will fight henceforth for you and with you, even if it be against his own people.
“He does not beg for mercy—he can dare anything! But I am a woman—my heart is soft—I ask for the lives of my husband and my son, who is the grandson of your chief!”