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Updated: June 15, 2025
The warrior's bow lay beside him with rotting string; the child's playthings were still clasped in fleshless fingers; beside the squaw's skull the ear-pendants of hiagua shells lay where they had fallen from the crumbling flesh years before. Near the door, and where the slanting moonbeams fell full upon it, was the last who had been borne to the death hut, the mother of Wallulah.
Multnomah passed on to seek the lodge of his daughter Wallulah, a half Asiatic, and the most beautiful woman in all the land of the Wauna. Reader, would you know the tale of the fair oriental of whom was born the sweet beauty of Wallulah? Eighteen years before the time of our story, an East Indian ship was wrecked on the Columbia bar, the crew and cargo falling into the hands of the Indians.
She started, and her face flushed painfully; then without looking at him she replied, "Wallulah loves her home, and leaving it saddens her." A sparkle of vindictive delight came into his eyes. "Do the women of the Willamette feel sad when they go to live with their husbands? It is not so with the Cayuse women. They are glad; they care for the one they belong to.
The main body of Snoqualmie's followers crossed to the north bank of the Columbia and took the trail leading up the river toward the inland prairies. But Snoqualmie and Wallulah went by canoe as far as the now ruined Bridge of the Gods. There were three canoes in their train.
For him, a missionary among barbarians, for her, the betrothed of a savage chief, the morrow could bring only parting and woe; the sweet, fleeting present was all they could hope for. For them there could be no to-morrow. Wallulah, however, did not observe his dejection. She had opened the casket, and now placed it between them as they sat together on the divan.
I must walk my own pathway alone wheresoever it leads me. God commands, and I must obey." The old rapt look came back, the old set, determined expression which showed that that delicate organization could grow as strong as granite in its power to endure. Wallulah shrank away from him, and strove to free herself from his embrace. "Let me go," she said, in a low, stifled tone.
Was not the best food hers, and the warm place by the lodge fire, and the softest bearskin to rest on; and was she not the wife of Multnomah, the big chief's woman? Why then should she droop and die like a winged bird that one tries to tame by tying it to the wigwam stake and tossing it food? Often the old chief brooded over these questions, but it was unknown to all, even to Wallulah.
Another moment and the flute would have been broken in his ruthless hands and its fragments flung into the lake; but Wallulah, startled, caught it from him with a plaintive cry. "It was my mother's. If you break it you will break my heart!" The chief's angry features quivered at the mention of her mother, and he instantly released the flute.
The sight was painful to Cecil, and he too went away while the game was at its height. Drawn by an influence that he could not resist, he took the trail that led down the bank of the river to the retreat of Wallulah. For round about the walls yclothed were With goodly arras of great maiesty, Woven with golde and silke so close and nere That the rich metall lurked privily. The Faërie Queene.
Then he turned and went out before Cecil could reply. "There is one at least seeking to get nearer God," thought Cecil, joyfully. After awhile his enthusiasm faded away, and he remembered how anxiously Wallulah must have waited for him, and how bitterly she must have been disappointed. Her face, pale and stained with tears, rose plainly before him. A deep remorse filled his heart. "Poor child!
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