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Updated: June 13, 2025
At sunset it was lighted, but long before midnight it was extinguished. With anxiety, he set forth in the shine of the moon to visit it. Arrived at the chief's tepee, he saw that the lantern of honour was gone, and waking Tekewani, he brought him out to see.
"How!" he said, with hand upraised, as one who greets the great in this world. "I don't know why I did it," she added meaningly. "It was selfish. I feel that now." The woman in black pressed her hand timidly. "It is so for ever with the great," Tekewani answered. "It comes, also, from beyond the Hills the will to do it. It is the spirit that whispers over the earth out of the Other Earth.
In the middle of the cheering, Osterhaut and Jowett arrived in a wagon which they had commandeered, and, about the same time, from across the bridge, came running Tekewani and his braves. "She done it like a kingfisher," cried Osterhaut. "Manitou's got the belt." Fleda Druse's friendly eyes were given only for one instant to Osterhaut and his friend.
In the days of rising sap, there were only the young maidens or wives of their own tribe to pursue, and it lacked in glory. Also in the springtime, Tekewani himself had his own trials, for in his blood the old medicine stirred.
It came from a finely-made and chased safety-lantern given to Tekewani by the Government, as a symbol of honour for having kept the braves quiet when an Indian and half-breed rising was threatened; and to the powerless chief it had become a token of his authority, the sign of the Great White Mother's approval.
Her gaze became fixed on Tekewani who, silent, and with immobile face, stole towards her. In spite of the civilization which controlled him, he wore Indian moccasins and deerskin breeches, though his coat was rather like a shortened workman's blouse. He did not belong to the life about him; he was a being apart, the spirit of vanished and vanishing days.
"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 "
Night and day since she had braved death with Tekewani, giving him a gun, a meerschaum pipe, and ten pounds of beautiful brown "plug" tobacco as a token of her gratitude night and day she had heard this spirit murmuring in her ear, and always the refrain was, "Down the stream to Carillon! Shoot the Rapids of Carillon!" Why? How should she know? Wherefore should she know?
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.
On the other-the Manitou-shore Tekewani and his braves were less talkative, but they were more concerned in the incident than Osterhaut and Jowett. They knew little or nothing of Ingolby the hustler, but they knew more of Fleda Druse and her father than all the people of Lebanon and Manitou put together.
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