“Who says there are no cougars hereabouts?” muttered Piper.
“The princess would have been slain,” continued the narrator, “only for the prompt and fortunate appearance of a tall, handsome young brave, who rushed to her rescue and slew the panther with his knife. The young Indian was wounded, but not seriously. His name was Woganock, and he was a Mattagamon. Nevertheless, in spite of the hostility between the two tribes, Lolokana promptly fell in love with Woganock. Of course they knew their love-making would not meet with the sanction of their people, and therefore it was carried on in secret through clandestine meetings in the woods.
“But Agamenthan was keeping a jealous and watchful eye upon Lolokana, and one day he followed her and saw the lovers meet in the forest. Without hesitation he rushed upon Woganock, shouting for him to defend himself. Armed only with their knives, the two young braves fought a bloody battle, in which both were badly chopped up. Woganock conquered, however, and Agamenthan was left apparently dying upon the ground.
“Supported and aided by Lolokana, Woganock, though desperately wounded, made his way back to his tribe. But when he told the story of the battle and confessed his love for Lolokana his father, a chief, rose in wrath and drove the princess away, vowing that no Passagonquay should ever take a Mattagamon for his squaw. Weak and helpless, Woganock could not lift a hand in remonstrance, and doubtless it would have availed him little had he been able to do so.
“Lolokana returned to her people and learned, to her astonishment, that Agamenthan had been found by some warriors, who had bound up his injuries and brought him back, alive, to the village. He must have been a tough one, this redskin, for he did not die. However, he told the story of the duel with Woganock, and thenceforth Lolokana was held practically a captive by her father, who promised Agamenthan that she should become his squaw. When the wounded brave recovered his strength and health he was to have her, whether she wished it or not.
“Now, as it affects every girl of spirit, this attempt to coerce her against her will made Lolokana only the more determined that she would never belong to Agamenthan. If she had lost Woganock, if she was to see him no more this side of the Happy Hunting Grounds, she was resolved that she would die the squaw of no man. A prisoner, watched vigilantly by night and by day, she dreamed splendid dreams of a reunion with the lover who had saved her from the panther and defeated the warlike Agamenthan in a fair and even battle. For, even as she had been driven away by the angry Mattagamons, although he could make no effort to shield her and could scarcely whisper a remonstrance, Woganock had cast her a look from his dark eyes that was a pledge and a promise. So she waited for him to come, confident that sometime he would do so and take her away.
“At last, however, she began to fear that she had waited in vain, for Agamenthan, bearing many terrible scars upon his person, had recovered his strength and was asking of her father that the time should be set when he could lead her to his wigwam. Though she knew of these councils and of the impatience of the young brave, Lolokana kept her lips sealed—kept her dark lashes always lowered, that Agamenthan might not read in her eyes the resolve to die rather than submit. A knife, which she had found, was hidden upon her person, and this, if nothing else, would enable her to escape at the last moment. One strong, swift thrust deep into her bosom would set her free.
“At last the day was named, and the chief of the Passagonquays told his daughter that on the morrow she was to become the squaw of Agamenthan. That night she did not close her eyes in sleep, although, lying quite still, without a single movement to arouse suspicion, she led her vigilant guard to believe she slumbered. It was her purpose to try to creep forth from the teepee in the darkest hours and take flight.
“As she lay thus she heard something—the faintest rustle, like the movements of a toad in the leaves; yet something told her it was not a toad, and, with her heart pounding, she listened and listened. Presently she heard her name whispered almost in her ear, and she knew it had been breathed by the lips of Woganock. She knew her lover had come at last. With all the skill and stealth of his race he had crept into the village, not even disturbing a sleeping dog. He was outside the teepee; only the thin wall divided them.
“Lulled by her apparent submission to the decree of her father, the chief, the guard dozed. Woganock’s hands found his throat and strangled him with scarcely a sound. Then, with the same caution, he led Lolokana out of the village and away into the black depths of the forest.