The father and mother were pleased with the old man's gifts. They told him that when the Planting Moon should come, the maiden should go to his wigwam.
Now the maiden did not love the old man. She did not wish him to make her his wife. "I will never sit at his wigwam door," she said.
It was midwinter, when the old man brought the gifts, the time of the pale, cold moon. From that time, the maiden watched, with a heavy heart, the moons wax and wane.
At last the snows disappeared. No more was the North Wind heard shrieking about the lodge. The gentle South Wind had come, bringing with him the singing birds.
The little brooks awoke and sang. They were happy that spring had come, and all the earth children were glad,—except the maiden. Her heart grew more heavy and sad, as the face of the sun grew brighter.
Then the Planting Moon came. The maiden watched the moon hang her horn in the sky. Then she ran swiftly to the great river that flowed not far from the lodge. Lightly she sprang into her canoe. A few quick strokes, and the canoe was in midstream.
The current ran swift and strong. The little craft was carried swiftly down the river toward the great falls known as Niagara Falls. As the canoe neared the falls, the maiden was seen to rise and stretch out her arms, as though about to leap. A smile was on her face, and a song was on her lips, as the canoe shot into the mist that overhung the water.
Then, from the caverns below a dark blanket floated upward, as though spread to catch the maiden. It was Heno, the Thunder Spirit, who dwelt behind the falls. He had caught her in the folds of his blanket, and had saved her from the great rocks below.
