“Ewa, you have saved my life; how am I to thank you for the service you have done me?”
“Be true to her—true—true—true.”
“To whom?”
“Great Spirit! he has forgotten her! False young mico! false pale-face! Why did I save him? Why did I not let his blood fall to the ground?”
“Ewa!”
“Hulwak, hulwak! Poor forest-bird! the beauty-bird of all; her heart will sicken and die, her head will go mad.”
“Ewa, explain.”
“Hulwak! better he should die than desert her. Ho, ho! false pale-face, would that he had died before he broke poor Ewa’s heart; then Ewa would have lost only her heart; but her head—her head, that is worse. Ho, ho, ho!
“Why did I trust in a pale-faced lover?
Ho, ho, ho!
Why did I meet him—”
“Ewa,” I exclaimed with an earnestness that caused the woman to leave off her wild song, “tell me! of whom do you speak?”