In the middle of the night he said to her, “Some day, perhaps, we will go East—some day, perhaps.”
“But now?” she asked, softly.
“Not now—not if I know it,” he answered. “I’ve got my heart nailed to the door of this lodge.”
As he slept she got quietly out, and, going to the door of the lodge, reached up a hand and touched the horseshoe.
“Be good Medicine to me,” she said. Then she prayed. “O Sun, pity me, that it may be as I have said to him. Oh, pity me, great Father!”
In the days to come Swift Wing said that it was her Medicine—when her hand was burned to the wrist in the dark ritual she had performed with the Medicine Man the night that Mitiahwe fought for her man; but Mitiahwe said it was her Medicine, the horseshoe, which brought one of Dingan’s own people to the lodge—a little girl with Mitiahwe’s eyes and form and her father’s face. Truth has many mysteries, and the faith of the woman was great; and so it was that, to the long end, Mitiahwe kept her man. But truly she was altogether a woman, and had good-fortune.
ONCE AT RED MAN’S RIVER
“It’s got to be settled to-night, Nance, This game is up here, up forever. The redcoat police from Ottawa are coming, and they’ll soon be roostin’ in this post, the Injuns are goin’, the buffaloes are most gone, and the fur trade’s dead in these parts. D’ye see?”