They thought it did, delightfully: if they stayed awake long enough to think at all. But when they were both asleep, and the sound of their soft breathing echoed through the dusky tepee, Wahneenah took her seat at its entrance, and began to sing low and softly, with a sweetness of voice which rendered even their rudeness musical, the love songs of her girlhood.
As she sang and gazed upward through the trees into the starlit sky, an infinite peace stole over her. Indeed, the joy that possessed her seemed almost startling to herself. All that was sad in her memories dropped from them, and left but their happiness; while the present closed about her as a delight that nothing could disturb. Her love for the Sun Maid had become almost a passion with her, and for her Dark-Eye there was ever an increasing and comprehending affection.
She remained so long, dreaming, remembering, and planning, that the first grayness of the dawn came before she could go within and take her own bit of sleep. But Muck-otey-pokee was always early astir; and if for no other reason, because the dogs which thronged the settlement would allow no quiet after daybreak. That morning they were unusually restless.
Cried Wahneenah, rising suddenly, and now feeling somewhat the effects of her late sitting:
“Can it be sun-up already? The beasts are wild this morning. I have never heard them so deafening.”
Nor had anybody else. There was no cessation in their barking.
“It’s a regular ‘bedlam,’ isn’t it? That’s what the Fort mothers used to say when there was target practice, and the children cheered the shooters. What makes them bark so?” answered Gaspar.
Wahneenah shivered, and suggested:
“Run out and play. Eh? What’s that? The Snake-Who-Leaps? So early, and with the horses, too? But mind him not. Take the Sun Maid out-of-doors, but keep close to the green before the lodge. Where I can see you now and then, while I get breakfast ready.”