The noon following the social, the shy-girl summoned Jim to the teepee. The Stemteemä wished to speak to him. Wondering what she could want, he complied, following Mary through the low curtained doorway. His greeting was an inscrutable look from the aged woman, as he seated himself on the buffalo robe. Glancing about the airy abode, he regretted that he had never thought of visiting there. The canvas lodge seemed homelike and the occupant reminded him of his own grandparent from whom he learned the tribal language which he still retained. She meditated before speaking. At length she addressed him:

“You are an Indian,” she said, gazing full into his face. “You will understand me, what I am to tell you. I am distressed and need your help. There is no one else for me to go to.”

Here the Stemteemä paused, as if in doubt about confiding to this strong, determined man⁠—a stranger. But the blood-tie was there, strengthened by a mutual knowledge of language and her need was sore. Seeming to weigh all, she continued:

“I do not like this Shoyahpee, who tries to steal my Cogewea from me and my people. I want her to marry someone of her own kind and class. I do not want the white man with his marked tongue. He will only cast her aside for one of his own race after he tires of her. She must take a man that we can all trust. I have no confidence in the pale faces. Always, they have made light of our women. Ever since the two white men came to us, has this trouble continued. It is a wrong many times repeated and the maidens should learn to distrust the cunning despoilers.

“My aunt fell victim to the first Shoyahpee who came to our tribe. The daughter of a Chief, she died of heart-grief. That is why I hate the pale faced race!

“You will help me to guard and watch over Cogewea. I have spoken to her older sister but Julia seems not to care. She wants her to marry a Shoyahpee, as she did herself. But not many white men are true and good like John. The eye of this other man tells me that he is bad. I have spoken all.”

The whitened head bent lower in grief. The foreman’s eyes glinted as he promised to try to protect Cogewea. They formulated and abandoned different plots for separating the lovers, but finally agreed that events should drift for the present. Considering his mishap with Croppy, it was hardly possible that Carter, with his conception of justice, would consent to Densmore’s dismissal from the ranch, so long as he proved worthy of hire and help was needed. However, under the changed conditions brought about by the closing of the roundup season, the two would not be thrown together so much, and it was hoped that the girl would detect his true character and drop him of her own accord.

Jim rose to go, but as an after thought, asked her to hear the story of the two white men of whom the grandmother had spoken. Stemteemä exhausted the little stone pipe which Mary had filled for her, before answering:

“If you were not of my own kind, I would not talk. Although the white blood has made fairer your skin, I like you and I trust you. I will tell you this story of other snows. Troubles of the long past should be buried, but I will speak.”

Then in an even tone, but at times with a cadence of sorrow, the Stemteemä disclosed how the innocence of her people was betrayed in the second coming of the Shoyahpee.

“I was only a small child, it happened so long ago,” she began. “I am now an old woman! It is so long since I was born that I have lost my correct age. I did keep the snows by knotting a hemp string which I had for that purpose, a knot for each winter. But I lost it on the trail and now I only know that I have seen more than a hundred snows. I must have been very young, but the men with hair on their pale faces impressed me. I have not forgotten the incident all my life. Not with the many snows, could I forget.

“I remember well both the Shoyahpee. I was afraid! I clung to my mother for protection. With pleading and coaxing, she made me to understand that I was not to be afraid of them; that they were not common mortals as were the warriors and medicine men, but were gods⁠—a higher people than the Indians⁠—which all my tribe believed to be true.

“But they were only the ordinary white men and thousands of them have I seen since. I did not then dream that in time I would have grandchildren with their blood. In after snows, when I could understand things better, my father, who was a great war Chief, repeated the story to me often. He told me just as I will now tell it to you.

“ ‘One snow,’ said my father, ‘my tribe, the Okanogans and some of the Schu-ayl-p^k, had their village on the banks of the Swa-net^k-qha. The snow was just covering the earth, the first calling of the Great Spirit. We had plenty of food for the winter moons. The seasons had been abundant in roots, berries and game; and the red salmon which comes up the streams, had been as the wild geese that flock to their nesting in the north-land after the Chinook has melted the snow. The Giver of Life had been kind and we thought to thank him with a bigger dance than usual. He had favored us on the war path, had made us strong in battle. We had defeated the Blackfeet who came against us and driven them back across the great mountains. For all this, we would prayer-dance a longer time. We were building our big festive lodge, when some of my warriors came running to me in excitement and said:

“ ‘ “We have again seen the pale faces, the strangers! The Great Spirit has sent them to show us the right way to reach Him.”

“ ‘We were all frightened! We thought of the prayers that the Black Robes had taught us and we tried to repeat the little which we remembered. We thought that the Great Spirit was angry with us, because we had neglected worshipping Him in the way of the pale faces. It might be that He had sent the strangers to punish us in some fearful way. I was scared! But I was a big Chief, and it is not for the chief to show fear, not even in death. A chief must not flinch at pain or fright.

“ ‘The two pale faces camped close to our village. They did not live in a teepee. They built a lodge of logs and covered it with moss and dirt. The moss they gathered on the banks of the Swa-net^k-qha, where it grew of the green shade and was plentiful.

“ ‘They also made a fireplace of rocks and clay, and a way for the smoke to escape as in our teepees. In one side of the lodge they put rawhide so the light would come through. It covered only a small space, but it lighted the room well.

“ ‘We were perplexed, astonished! We prayed to them and worshipped them from a distance. It was some time before I had the courage to go to their lodge. But finally I went with some of my bravest warriors, fearless warriors. I took a medicine man with us for protection.43 I had made up my mind to see them and if they killed me, I would die brave. My name would not be lost! My children and grandchildren would think of my great name with honor. I believed the strangers to be men who had in them the Great Spirit, who might be angry. For this, I hesitated before taking the rash step, as I then thought it to be.

“ ‘With my warriors, I reached the lodge which they had completed and were occupying. I did not knock at the door. According to our own custom we walked in. When we entered, the pale faces were both holding weapons against us. Even the strange Indian woman who was with them, held a gun in aim. She was a brave squaw! We found afterwards that she came to show them the trail to the big water, towards the sunset.

“ ‘When I saw that they wanted to fight or defend themselves, I held out the peace pipe, but the woman alone understood. We all got on our knees and prayed, of the little we remembered of the Black Robe’s teaching. I felt ashamed when they laughed instead of pointing us the right way to reach the Great Spirit. When they laughed before our faces, I knew not what to do.

“ ‘But we smoked the pipe with them, to show that we would be friends while they remained in our country.

“ ‘They had several ponies, and since they had come from the direction of the big mountains, I knew what those horses meant for us. If our fierce enemies, the Blackfeet, knew we had them at our village, they would never stop until they possessed them. We could expect an attack in the night, a battle for a small band of ponies. That the ponies belong to the white-gods, would make no difference to those on the war path.

“ ‘This troubled me and one day I decided to speak to the strangers even if they were higher beings. My people were uneasy! They knew what attending evil awaited them and their children, should the Blackfeet come. Only after many signs in talking did I make the pale faces understand why we did not want the horses with us. But they laughed at our fears. Then I thought that they, being greater than the Indians, knew everything, so made my mind easy concerning the enemy.

“ ‘One of the pale faces had the Indian woman who came with them as a wife. Of another tribe and beyond the big mountains, we could not understand her tongue. The other pale face had no wife, and to honor him I gave him my only sister, Wan-na-ka, the handsome Okanogan princess. Chiefs and warriors of our own, as well as of distant tribes, had sought her, but she was valued above any gifts offered. It was to show my friendship and worship for the pale faced god that I gave him my sister to be his wife. It was to please him and the Great Spirit.

“ ‘Wan-na-ka went to her white god and soon loved him. She prayed hard to please him and the Great Spirit. My people took them food, dried roots and berries, fresh game and fish.

“ ‘The strangers had been with us one moon, when what we had dreaded took place. The Blackfeet came on the war path for those ponies, traveled days for them. They stole on our village at night, killing some of my people, while we killed some of them. They got the horses which left the pale gods afoot; flying with them back across the mountains.

“ ‘The pale faces stayed with us the rest of the winter. Perhaps this was because they now had no horses to carry them away. They spent their time hunting and trapping. The beaver fur they dried in the sun, lacing them to pole hoops. We cured our skins the same way, fastening the edges with strong buckskin or hemp lashings.

“ ‘One day some of the Okanogans were watching the strangers from a thicket. They saw one of them go to the rack and strike the skin with his hand which threw it a distance from the frame. The Indians were frightened at his unusual strength. They were now convinced that their visitors were not mere men like themselves, but were beings from the spirit world. No human could possess such force without aid from the Great Spirit.44 Seeing them so powerful, we prayed all the more to them from our hiding. We no longer worshipped them as at first, in the fear that they would laugh at us. But we thanked the Great Spirit for sending them to us. We had looked for them long. We knew that they had come to show us the right way, for had not the dead man foretold it?

“ ‘In the spring when the birds had come back from the spirit world,45 and the red salmon were coming up the big river, my sister came to me in trouble. Her heart was poor and heavy. She sat down in my lodge and for a time was silent. She then told me that the pale faces wanted to go where the sun sinks down, where the Black Robe had gone. I wandered while she spoke. I thought:

“ ‘Why do they all want to go to the sunset? Is there anything wrong with the sun? Maybe the spirits have sent them to see about the sun? Maybe they have no more suns where they came from and they are going to change its trail? Maybe the sun will travel the other way after they have reached there and attended to it?

“ ‘ “He wants to go where the sun quits the earth, where it becomes lost in the big water,” said Wan-na-ka. “He wants some of your young men to take them in canoes down the Swa-net^k-qha; and my brother; he wants me to go with him and leave my own people. I do not want to do this, and still I love him, my white god. He said that if I want him, I must go and leave my own blood forever. If I do not do this, then I must give him up for all time. He is leaving, he told me, maybe never to return among us. I am not to see him again. My brother, I have no other one to go to and you must tell me what to do. I am also to become a mother.”

“ ‘I told her that she must give me time to think; that I must consult my medicine man; to have my sleep and dream among the spirits. Then I could give her advice. Wan-na-ka then spoke again:

“ ‘ “My child is to be a boy. I want him to grow up among the Schu-ayl-p^k, a wise counselor, a warrior chief. I want to stay near the graves of my ancestors, I do not want to die away from my people. I love them! I love you, my brother, and I love my pale faced husband. I have told you all, and you will guide me right in the steps I am to take. You are wise and will not show me the wrong trail.”

“ ‘Wan-na-ka was troubled, but she did not weep. I said to her:

“ ‘ “Speak no more! Go home to your white husband. After I call the spirits and dream, I can give you a strong answer. My heart is now sick and poor in words.”

“ ‘I consulted my medicine man and then went alone to the mountain woods. I slept! And the spirits showed me a broad trail yet unmade; creeping to us from the land of the morning sun. It is not for me to unblanket all that came to me in that vision. It is enough that I learned all about the pale faced gods.

“ ‘After five sundowns, I came back to my sister, Wan-na-ka. She gave me food, after the ancient custom. I was in troubled thought and I ate in silence. I made my heart strong, for I knew what I would say and the task was not easy. I spoke:

“ ‘ “My sister, we have been deceived in the strangers. Better had I not smoked the pipe with them; better had you never seen him whom you call a god-husband. Go with him! without my consent and learn what is to come to you; what the meaning of it is. He can not love you as one of his kind. Have you thought that maybe there are pale faced squaws where he came from, in the land of the morning lodge? In my dream I saw them! Their eyes are not of the night like those of the women of the Schu-ayl-p^k. They are as the summer sky when the clouds are melted and gone. Their hair is as the leaves when touched by the first call of autumn. For these strange women, I saw your pale face forsake you when far from the Swa-net^k-qha. Wan-na-ka, the choice belongs to you. Go and be forgotten by both your husband and people alike! For your own good, will I advise you. Stay with the Okanogans and the Schu-ayl-p^ks! Where you are loved and will not be cast aside. Goodbye, my sister. This is all that I will say, but before going I will answer your husband.

“ ‘ “Tell him that I must keep all of my young men. He may take the canoes, but my warriors he cannot have. I will need them for the trouble which I saw in my dream. Evil and death will come to my people in the wake of these two pale faces. My warriors must be strong! I saw on this great new trail a mighty nation sweeping over our hunting grounds, armed with dread weapons of war. I saw our villages made desolate with fire and the graves of our fathers profaned. I saw the death-trail worn smooth by the moccasined feet of the dead and the death wail grew loud on the storm-rack of night. It passed! the lament grew fainter and ceased. There were none to mourn for the last of the Schu-ayl-p^k.”

“ ‘I turned away, and as I passed through the doorway, I heard my sister moaning:

“ ‘ “Goodbye, my brother! My own blood! But I love him, my pale faced god!”

“ ‘Not to hear more, I hurried to my own lodge. My heart was heavy with grief. I reached my teepee, where you were then a very small child; favorite of the youngest of my twelve wives. I sat gloomy with sorrow, my robe over my head.

“ ‘I never saw my pale faced brother-in-law again. I did not want to see him. I might kill him for the wrong he had done my sister. But it was my fault for giving her to him in the belief that he was superior to common man. I was ashamed for my folly! I sent my young men to help him get ready the canoes, but I would not go myself. I remained in my lodge, hidden from view.

“ ‘It was fourteen sundowns later, when I saw them carrying their goods to the river. I knew that they were leaving never to return among us and I was glad. But I saw Wan-na-ka, following her pale man⁠—deserting her own people⁠—as I then thought. As strong and brave as I was, death would have been easier than to watch her leaving forever.

“ ‘With a poor heart, I remained in my lodge. Wan-na-ka, my only sister, had not come to speak a last farewell. Maybe she hated me! Why had I given my flower to the blighter? Someone entered the doorway. I did not look up! I did not want to see anybody when my sorrow was heavy. My visitor stopped not at the vacancy kept near the entrance for those who might come, but stepped directly to my private robe where only the invited might sit.

“ ‘A touch was on my shoulder. I did not turn! But soon, a sob, low and smothered, caused me to lift my eyes. Wan-na-ka was standing at my side, weeping as Indians seldom weep. I took her hand, feeling happy as though she had returned from the dead. She would now remain with her own people. I asked her what was wrong, and she answered:

“ ‘ “Let me cry! I must feel better before I can talk.”

“ ‘All the rest of that day, Wan-na-ka sat mourning. In time, she talked and said that at the river, her pale husband had told her not to follow him. He did not want her in the canoe. I tried to show her that it was best to stay with her own kind, where all understood each other. When night fell, she went to her aunt’s lodge to sleep.

“ ‘It was again winter snow when Wan-na-ka brought to my lodge a little papoose, all wrapped in furs. She stood the cradle-board near me and bared the face of the baby, a boy. It was handsome, but light of skin as was its father. Wan-na-ka told me how the tribe’s greatest medicine man had foretold that if the boy lived, he would become a mighty chief, a great leader among the Schu-ayl-p^k. But evil spirits, sent by the medicine men of the Blackfeet, were threatening the child with a strange sickness, which if it came, would prove fatal, for none could combat it.46

“ ‘The papoose grew for a time and my sister was less unhappy. She was glad to be the mother of the future benefactor of her tribe and race. Then when the nights grew longest, when the sun had wandered farthest from his summer trail, the trouble came. A gleaming star appeared within the lodge of the moon, and a raven flew circling above the teepee of Wan-na-ka.47

“ ‘The papoose of the whitened skin became sick. A great worship dance was held by our wisest medicine men, to try to kill or drive back the evil spirits. But the power of the Blackfeet was too strong. The life of Wan-na-ka’s child went out and there was wailing for a spirit flown.

“ ‘The baby was buried and my sister grew weakened with grief. It was many moons before she was strong, but she was never seen to smile or laugh. Ofttimes she went into the woods and there wailed for her papoose and for the one who had deserted her.48

“ ‘After two snows, warrior and chiefs from the wide neighboring tribes came and sought Wan-na-ka’s hand. She refused them all. Kee-lau-naw,49 a brave young chief rich in furs and shells, was one. I favored him among the many but I would not follow the old custom and give my sister against her will. I asked her why she would not again marry; why she refused so great a chief as Kee-lau-naw, who had taken many scalps of the Blackfeet. He was the best hunter among the Okanogans and would always supply her with plenty of meat and skins for clothing. Pointing to where the sun was sinking into the earth, she replied:

“ ‘ “My brother, my heart is there, gone with him! I can not call it back. Do not ask me to marry another. What warrior would care for Wan-na-ka, who prays only for the coming of the night we call death.”

“ ‘I understood! I spoke to her no more on the subject. One snow later, the Great Spirit called and Wan-na-ka was buried by the side of her child.’ ”

The Stemteemä ceased speaking. Lost in reverie, she remained silent for a time and then concluded:

“This is the end of the story told by my father of the second Shoyahpee, and of the shame of my aunt and her people. I could tell you of like wrongs of the white man, but they are separate stories. My heart is sick with the telling! You now know why I do not want Cogewea to marry this Shoyahpee. They are all false to our race! I want you to save my grandchild.”

Jim stood erect, his face set and stern. His measured words were impassioned as he spoke:

“I have heard the Stemteemä and I am not proud of my white blood. Now listen! I love Cogewea, but she has cast me aside for this strange Shoyahpee. The white man’s law permits her to choose between us, nor can tribal rules interfere. I can not fight him according to the old Indian custom, nor would I do secret injury to the meanest that live. But listen!” and the voice was lowered to an even, deadly tone. “If he so much as harms a tress of the little gal’s head, the best rider of the Flathead will kill him!”