“I am not a poet,” he said. “A man who pushes his shield between the lodges of the Mohawks has no time for the making of songs.”
Already his air was preoccupied. Hawk-in-the-Tree noticed this.
“Or for the making of names, chief,” she said. “I do not wonder that your mind is uneasy and that fear tingles in your heart, for the Mohawks are mighty enemies.”
Walking Moose stared at her, then smiled.
“Yes, they are mighty against those who run away,” he said. “The hare that jumps from the fern strikes as much terror in my heart as all the Mohawks who stand in moccasins.” He laughed softly, gazing down at the amber water of the pool. “But I have a name for you,” he added. “Shining Star is your name in my country.”
Then he put the line into her hand, took up his bow and shield, and crossed the stream. He climbed the short, steep ascent and forced his way through the tangled branches. So he advanced for about ten yards, making a good deal of stir. Then he halted, turned, and crawled noiselessly back to the edge of the bank. He lay motionless for several minutes, peering out between the drooping spruces. He had no suspicion of the girl, but it was a part of his creed to look twice and carefully at everything that was new to him. He watched her bait the hook and cast it on the pool. She skipped it here and there across the calm surface; and presently a fish rose and took it, and was deftly landed upon the rock for his trouble. Walking Moose was satisfied that the girl had no intentions against anything but the trout. He crawled noiselessly back through the brush, then got to his feet, and returned to the bank without any effort at concealment. She looked up as he appeared above the stream.
“I have come back,” he said, “to accompany you to your lodge. I must see your grandfather, Never Sleep. It is my duty as chief to know all my people and the whereabouts of every lodge.”
The girl coiled the wet line and took up the two trout. Her head was bowed, so the young man did not see the smile on her red lips. It was in her thoughts that something more than a poor fish had risen to her hook; but Walking Moose really thought that he was but doing his duty as chief of the clan of the White Salmon. As this couple had come to his country from the lower river, it was clearly his place to know something of their position so that he might protect them in time of need.
Walking Moose climbed the steep bank first and then reached down a helping hand to the girl whom he had named Shining Star. This was an unusual attention from a brave to a squaw. On reaching the top the girl took the lead. She walked swiftly and gracefully, and the twigs and branches that sprang into place behind her switched the warrior; but so intent was he in following this Shining Star that he paid no attention to the switchings. She led straight to the south, over hummocks, and across open places and tangled valleys. So for about a mile; and then she halted and turned a glowing face to her follower.
“I must let Never Sleep know that I am bringing a stranger,” she said, “or he will be in a terrible rage. He is not agreeable when he is angry. If I whistle twice, he will know that I am not alone.”