He could not despise the love she had given him. Hope, that bright star
of youth, hovered over her, and its light was reflected on her heart.
When they arrived at the village of the chief Markeda, or "Burning
Earth," the haughty brow of the chief was subdued with care. He had
dreamed of Haokah the giant, and he knew there was sorrow or danger
threatening him. He had sinned against the giant, and what might be the
consequence of offending him? Was his powerful arm to be laid low, and
the strong pulse to cease its beatings? Did his dream portend the loss
of his young wife? She was almost as dear to him as the fleet hunter
that bore him to the chase.
It might be that the angry god would send their enemies among them, and
his tall sons would gladden his sight no more. Sickness and hunger,
phantom-like, haunted his waking and sleeping hours.
There was one hope; he might yet ward off the danger, for the uplifted
arm of the god had not fallen. He hoped to appease the anger of the
giant by dancing in his honor.
"We have travelled far," said old John the medicine man, to Markeda,
"and are tired.
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