"My fingers—so?"
"No—no—something behind the fingers."
"My head—here?"
"No—something behind that."
"My heart?"
"No—no—something behind that."
"I?"
"Yes—you, but something behind that. I have not seen it, my girl—your spirit. It is that that makes the music; but there is something behind that. I can feel what I can not see. I am going away, girl—going away to the source of the stream. Then I will know everything good is beautiful—it is good that makes you beautiful, and the music beautiful. It is good that makes the river beautiful, and the stars. I am going away where all is beautiful. When I am gone, teach my poor people."
Gretchen drew his red hand to her lips and kissed it. The chief bent low his plumed head and said:
"That was so beautiful, my little spirit, that I am in a haste to go. One moon, and I will go. Play."