In vain might we seek to follow Wenona in her untiring search for her brother—she knew all his accustomed haunts—at one time making her way over rock and crag, to find out the eagle's home; at another, pushing her small canoe up the stream, where the beavers made their houses; weeping, yet hoping too.
Day after day passed thus: and ever as she returned to the village would Flying Cloud tell her she must go beyond the clouds to seek him.
Iron Heart neither assisted in the search for the boy, nor spoke of his loss. He was calm as usual: yet in the last four days he seemed to have lived as many years.
He employed himself sharpening the instruments he was soon to use against the Chippeways, while hanging near the medicine-sack, which was attached to a pole outside the wigwam, was a knife which glittered in the sun, which was only touched or moved by himself.
Days and weeks passed by: Wenona ceased to look for her brother, or hope for his return; yet still she wept. The heart of the motherless girl clung ever in thought to him who had been not only her companion, but her charge from his birth. She had taken him from her mother's bosom when dying; she had watched his childish sports, and sung to him the legends of her people. Could she have closed his eyes, and wept at his feet, her grief would not have been so hopeless. It often occurred to her that her father was not unacquainted with the circumstances of his death.
* * * * *
Strange and solemn was the secret of the death of the Indian boy. Dearly loved by his father, they stood together one day by the river's side. "Did you not say, my father," said the boy, "that we would go to the forest for the deer? Let us go now; my arrows are swift and strong, and to-morrow the girls will come and help us drag them in. Come, my father, your looks have been sad for many days, but you will laugh when you see the red deer fall as we strike them. The old woman, Flying Cloud," continued the boy, "says she knows what is going to happen to me. She says I will never go to war against the Chippeways; that my knife shall never sever the scalps from the head of my enemy; that my voice shall not be heard in the council, nor shall my wife ever stand at the door of her lodge to wait my coming. But I laughed at her: she is old and poor; she loves not the young and happy. See her now, my father, as she stands upon that high rock, waving her arms to me. What have you done to her that she hates you so? She says she has cast a spell upon our race."
"Flying Cloud is not of our clan, my son," replied Iron Heart; "her son died, and she says my mother caused his death. She says she cannot die till my mother is childless like herself. But come, before the night we must kill many deer."
"Is your knife sharp?" said the boy; "you know we must draw the skins off while they are warm. My sister will work our moccasins and leggins. She says she is never so happy as when she is sewing for me."
Shall we follow them—shall we penetrate the deep forests to see the father raise his knife to pierce from side to side the strong, healthy frame of his son!