"We have decided in the council of the chiefs that the bravest should give you the daughter he loves best for a wife. There is not one in the camp too good for you. I now offer you my daughter Natoatchistaki. Take her and let her build you a lodge where you may dwell in peace. My heart is sad in losing her, for I love her above all the others, but I shall go often to your lodge and there I shall talk with you. Take her. She is yours. That is all I have to say."
As the chief finished, Akspine raised his head and let it fall in token of acquiescence in the decision, then the brave old man arose and left his lodge. His heart was full, but he would not allow his emotions to control him. He walked away dignified and silent, and no one meeting him could have told from his manner that anything unusual had occurred.
When Akspine looked up the lodge was empty. He remained alone in deep meditation, pondering over the step which was to sever him from his kindred and unite him forever with the Indians of the plains. He felt compelled to listen to the eloquence of his heart, and after a short struggle he decided to obey its dictates.
This decision made, and his heart lightened of the burden of doubt, Akspine went out into the adjoining bluffs where he could listen to the songs of the birds and gather courage to meet the new life. Darkness had fallen before he returned to the lodge. When he sought his accustomed place, the other occupants turned their eyes on him, but no word was spoken. Four days passed, during which no reference was made to the conversation that had taken place, but on the fifth evening a merry group assembled in the chief's lodge. The women in the camp had prepared many dainties; the best food was provided, venison and buffalo tongues were freely given, and the guests ate eagerly of the good things. It was a marriage feast indeed. Amid the rejoicing and feasting many gifts were bestowed; then the young men and maidens gathered outside the lodge as the bride and bridegroom were escorted from the home of the old chief to a lodge that had been lately built and handsomely furnished. Here, after many expressions of good-will, the company separated, each retracing his steps to his own lodge.
Thus were Akspine and Natoatchistaki married in the Indian fashion, their courtship coming after marriage, a reversal of the method of the white men. In many cases the plan works well, but in the instances where no courtship follows, there is bitter enmity, slavery, and at last rejection. Akspine and his Indian bride, however, loved each other devotedly, and were happy.
After the first few days had lapsed, their friends came to call upon them in their own lodge. As the days passed the influence of the white man increased, though some of the young men were jealous of the power he wielded over the tribe. Within a short time he had attained the highest position and been made a chief. While sitting in the council of the chiefs Akspine listened attentively, offered no advice, but waited until all the others had spoken, then in a few clear, decisive words he unravelled the difficulty, showing by his ability to settle knotty questions that he was possessed of superior wisdom. His fame spread rapidly beyond his own tribe, and many Indians belonging to other camps were anxious to see him, but he was guarded closely by his people lest harm should come to him or an enemy attack him.
The power of the tribe grew. When drawn into war they conquered, but the wise counsels of Akspine enabled them often to avert it without losing honor among the nations. Peace and contentment reigned in the camps, the herds of horses multiplied, and the health of the people was good.
With a grave and dignified air the white chief strode through the camp, calling at a favorite lodge here and there to consult with the wise men on matters affecting the welfare of the tribe. At such times the children ran to him for the kind word or smile that was always ready for them.
Akspine's lodge became the resort of all who were in trouble. The sick sought his advice, the chiefs came to consult him, the young men resorted to him for encouragement, and when domestic troubles divided members of the same family, it was to Akspine's lodge they came to have the difficulty settled and the wounds healed. The young chief's wise rule indeed rested like a benediction upon all classes. Wherever he went, peace followed his footsteps. Several years were spent in thus influencing others for good, and the white chief was happy in the possession of such power over the people.
Early one morning during the fall of the year Akspine started on a trip to the mountains, accompanied by one of his friends, expecting to be absent four or five days. He chatted freely with his companion as he passed the lodges on his way through the camps, giving a word of counsel here and a gentle reproof there. The people smiled as he greeted them at the doors of the lodges, and prayed for success in his enterprise in the mountains.