“My father was the chief of a noble tribe, now vanished from the earth, then filling the valley named for its burden of wild strawberry. My mother was a maiden of a tribe removed from here, far to the east—perhaps a tribe of your own race. At least she differed much from my father’s people in face and form and mind. I have heard few words regarding her, and my memory of her grace and beauty is but the memory of a child. Of gentle heart she must have been, and my father, a stern, strong warrior among warlike men, made her his idol.
“I was an only child, and I grew up as other Indian children, with few events to make my years remembered. By my mother I was fondly loved; my father gave me little care or notice. Nothing stands clear in my past until one day, while I was still a child, there came a great change in my life. My father, with many stalwart braves, had gone upon a bloody expedition against a powerful foe some distance to the south, leaving behind a small band of men to guard our camp. These set out one morning to hunt the deer which then, more fearlessly than now, roamed over the neighboring hills. At nightfall they had not returned, nor did they ever come.
“All that day, haunted by a prophecy of evil, my mother wandered pale and anxious about the camp. The stolid Indian women, themselves unmoved by threat of danger, grumbled together at her restlessness and fear, but to her they said no word. As the afternoon wore away she could control herself no longer. Taking my hand she led me into the little teepee which, contrary to the custom of Indian men, my father had built for her with his own hands, beside the valley stream.
“When we were alone and sheltered from the gaze of her hard-faced companions, she took me in her arms and threw herself with me upon her couch of skins. Then she wept. I, who had never seen a man or woman weep, was filled with a strange, wild fear. I struggled in her arms, and when her tight clasp forced me to lie still, I lay panting with fright. Soon, seeing my terror, she checked her sobs and stroked my long shining hair until my fears were hushed. Then she said:
“‘Child, you are of your father’s mould and spirit. You will become his pride and joy, as I have been his love. Something tells me that soon I shall go far from you, into another land, among another people. You will know little of your mother’s life or love; for death will seal her lips, and pride and love and grief your father’s. Her kindred will be strangers to you, for they are far distant from this place and people, and when she left them to follow one she better loved, they ceased to speak, perhaps to think of her. Yet they are noble and true and tender, and sometime they will bring to you, perhaps, sympathy more than your father’s race can give. But this is not the thing I long to say. I would leave with you another message straight from your mother’s heart.
“‘Love fills the measure of a woman’s life. Fear not to take and give. But when suitors come to you from this and other tribes, choose from them not at all or else choose worthily. Rank, possessions, power are glittering ornaments, but look not long on them. Let your heart rest on him whose soul meets yours and at its best.’
“That night our camp was entered by the stealthy foe who had surprised and killed our band of hunters. My mother slew with her own hands the dark-faced warrior who had rushed into our tent to take me captive. She in turn was pierced by the poisoned arrow of another of the enemy. At midnight she lay dead.
“Before the first glow of another sunrise had touched yon peak, my father returned laden with spoils from a vanquished foe. But his chant of victory was changed to wailing. All that day he mourned alone; but when midnight came again, he summoned all his people, and, with solemn dance and dirge, they buried my mother beside the stream where she had dwelt. Then he wreaked upon the enemy who had despoiled his home, vengeance unspeakable.
“After my mother’s death my father’s heart was turned toward me. I became his frequent companion. Near the spot where my mother’s teepee once stood, one was reared for me. Indian maidens waited upon me to do my bidding. Indian youths brought gifts from the forest and the sea. As I grew into womanhood, I kept my mother’s skill and quickness; I was like her, too, in form and bearing. But I was like my father in my dark face and hair and, most of all, in my unconquerable spirit. As my mother had predicted, I became his pride and joy. Braves from our own tribe sought my hand, but I gave no sign of pleasure; and for a time my father seemed content. At length my haughty beauty was known outside my people, and dark-browed warriors came from other tribes to win my favor. Some brought gifts of skins and shells, gold, woven blankets, and trophies of their strifes, and lay them at my feet. Some performed before me feats of skill or of endurance; some boasted their rank and power. When they told my father of their gifts or asked him for my hand, at first he smoked in silence. Then, when many went away unsatisfied or displeased, he turned questioningly to me.
“‘What would you have?’ he asked, and a gleam of anger showed itself in his dark face.