One evening the young woman was again chopping wood by the river, and, again looking up, she saw a man standing near her, wearing his robe hair side out. Again she thought it was her father, but when she addressed him he turned around, and she saw it was a stranger. At first she was sure it was her husband, but as he lowered his robe she saw that he was dark-faced and black-haired like herself. “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you here?”
“I am of your race,” he said, “but from a far-away tribe. I am seeking a wife; will you marry me?”
Plover Call would not answer his question, but told him to go with her to her parents’ lodge. Low Wolf decided that she might marry the stranger at once. “The other one,” he said, “that Thunder Maker, has been gone a long time, and I am sure he will never return. We need another drawer of the bow in case of attack, [[137]]so put up your lodge again and try to live happily.”
Although he had appeared rather strangely, and, like the Thunder Maker, had said he came from a far country, there was nothing that seemed either odd or mysterious about Plover Call’s new husband. He hunted with her father, prayed to Nápi, the creator, as she did, and in no respect was different from any young Blackfoot she knew. He was very kind and gentle, and the girl soon loved him with all her heart. They lived together very happily. One day, as he sat in the lodge making some arrows, the distant rumbling of thunder was heard.
“Go!” his wife cried. “Leave here at once; the man I told you of is returning.”
“I will not leave this lodge,” said he, calmly, “for the Thunder person, nor any one else.”
“But you must,” she replied; “he will be angry; and oh, I fear him. Listen! he is coming nearer. Hurry away before it is too late.”
“Ah,” said her husband, “you do not love me, or you would not ask this.”
“It is because I do love you that I want to have you go.” [[138]]
“Say no more,” he replied; “now that I know you love me, I shall surely stay. I do not fear him.”