And as they hesitated, and Owindia's life hung by a thread, Klukwan, the messenger, stepped forward, and raised his arm for his companions to desist. He had been a silent witness of the whole proceeding, and his heart stirred within him at the idea of putting the maiden to death. In fact ever since she had entered the camp he had found it almost impossible to keep his eyes away from her face. How he longed to possess her for his own. She appealed to him not only for her beauty, but for her courage and modest demeanour.
"Kill not the squaw," he began. "Why should she be put to death? When did Chilcat warriors ever do such a thing? If the evil spirit had entered into an Ayana brave Klukwan would not say a word. But this is a squaw, daughter of a great chief. That chief is the Chilcats' enemy, but he is a brave warrior, and has a strong heart. The Chilcats honour a brave man, even though he is their enemy. This maiden has a strong heart. She saved Klukwan's life in Klitonda's lodge, and Klukwan cannot forget. The evil spirit is in her, and it must not be allowed to get away or it will do harm to the Chilcats. Bind the squaw fast to a tree, that she may be safe. The spirit cannot get away from her body now that it has taken up its abode there."
Stepping up to the maiden Klukwan placed his right hand upon her arm.
"Does the Ayana squaw dream?" he asked. "Does she see strange sights? Is the evil spirit speaking through her lips?"
Owindia turned and looked upon the brave, although she saw him not. A far away expression shone in her dilated eyes, as lifting her hand she pointed out among the trees.
"See, they come!" she cried. "The Chilcats are among the Ayana people; they will steal the women, and kill the men."
Then she began to sing in the monotonous Indian fashion a fragment of a song she had often heard around the camp fire at night. It was but one of the numerous compositions which had been handed down from generation to generation. Each had added something to the various pieces, legends, deeds of bravery, and love, until in some cases the crazy jumbles were of great length, requiring often an hour or more for their rendition. Owindia learned only the ones which appealed to her heart and mind, especially those telling of the deeds of her forefathers, and their heroism in days gone by. It was only natural, therefore, that her favourite piece should be sung when her mind was so wildly excited.
"Hark! I hear the Chilcats coming.
They are coming o'er the ranges;
They will steal our wives and daughters,
They will slay our sons and husbands.
Rouse, Ayana, to the battle,
Drive the Chilcats o'er the ranges,
Free our land and save our people,
Come, Ayana, come, come!"
Having ended these words in the long drawn wail of the Indian manner, a sudden fancy seemed to seize Owindia's mind. She began to sing snatches of songs and hymns which her mother had taught. Some were bright, and gay; others were sombre, and full of much pathos. Her voice was as clear and full of sweetness as when Natsatt had first heard it out in the lodge in the wilderness.
The Chilcat warriors were now more firmly convinced than ever that the maiden was possessed of the evil spirit. They were not accustomed to such singing, and the tunes of the English songs and hymns made no appeal to their hearts. The singer must not be allowed to abide among them. Nothing but harm would come from her presence. Death was the only remedy. Such was the opinion of all the Chilcats when they had considered the matter except Klukwan, the messenger. He would not agree to such a proposition, and appealed to the chiefs son, who had taken but little part in the discussion.