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Updated: June 13, 2025
The girl had reached the angry, thrashing waters where the rocks rent and tore into white ribbons the onrushing current, and her first trial had come on the instant the spitting, raging panthers of foam struck the bow of her canoe. The waters were so low that this course, which she had made once before with her friend Tekewani the Blackfeet chief, had perils not met on that desperate journey.
Near to the boscage on a little hill overlooking the great river, Gabriel Druse had come upon Tekewani seated in the pine-dust, rocking to and fro, and chanting a low, sorrowful refrain, with eyes fixed on the setting sun. And the Ry of Rys understood, with the understanding which only those have who live close to the earth, and also near to the heavens of their own gods.
It was then that Gabriel Druse learned of the hatred of Tekewani for Felix Marchand, because of what he had done in the reservation, prowling at night like a fox or a coyote in the folds.
The walking-stick which lay beside him in the moment of his death was the last thing placed upon the pyre. Then came the match, and the flames made ashes of all those things which once he called his own. Standing apart, Tekewani and his braves watched the ceremonial of fire with a sympathy born of primitive custom. It was all in tune with the traditions of their race.
"Brother," said Tekewani, "it was while there was a bridge of land between the continents at the North that we met. Again I see it. I forgot it, but again I see. There was war, and you went upon one path and I upon another, and we met no more under all the moons till now." "'Dordi', so it was and at such a time," answered the Ry of Rys.
"And once more we will follow after the fire-flies which give no light to the safe places but only lead farther into the night." Tekewani rocked to and fro again, muttering to himself, but presently he said: "We eat from the hands of those who have driven away the buffalo, the deer, and the beaver; and the young bucks do naught to earn the joy of women.
Ingolby was now only part of her triumph of the Rapids. She tossed a hand affectionately towards Tekewani and his braves. "How!" said Gabriel Druse, and made a gesture of salutation to the Indian chief. "How!" answered Tekewani, and raised his arm high in response. An instant afterwards Tekewani and his followers were gone their ways.
"I fainted, but I was not to die it was not my time." He shook his head gloomily. "Once it may be, but the evil spirits tempt us to death. It matters not what comes to Tekewani; he is as the leaf that falls from the stem; but for Summer Song that has far to go, it is the madness from beyond the Hills of Life." She took his hand. "I will not do it again, Tekewani."
Ingolby was now only part of her triumph of the Rapids. She tossed a hand affectionately towards Tekewani and his braves. "How!" said Gabriel Druse, and made a gesture of salutation to the Indian chief. "How!" answered Tekewani, and raised his arm high in response. An instant afterwards Tekewani and his followers were gone their ways.
"I will have my own," said Tekewani, with malediction on the thief who had so shamed him. Black anger was in the heart of Gabriel Druse as he turned again towards his own home, and he was glad of what he had done to Felix Marchand at the Orange funeral. "Like the darkness of the grave, which is darkness itself "
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