pausing, shot it at the animal. Leaping high in the air, he fell, and crimsoned the snow with his life-blood. "Surely," thought We-no-na, "the good spirit who dwells in woods has befriended me;" for this was the first deer she had ever killed. With great labor she dragged the carcase to the edge of the bluff, and rolled it down over the icy crust to the frozen lake. It would have been hard work for a strong man to pull it over the ice, and up to the little encampment back of We-no-na's rock. But this she did, greatly fearing the while lest the wolves should interrupt her in the task.
Old Ish-te-nah’s eyes sparkled when he saw what the maiden had accomplished.
"Here is enough," he said, "to keep you from starving till the spring."
"To keep us both, father," rejoined We-no-na.
The old man shook his head, but said nothing,
"What would my father say?" asked We-no-na, after a long pause.
"Should I leave you, my child, trust in the Great Spirit, and be brave. Wait here through the winter as long as you can get food and warmth; but do not tarry after you have plucked the first ripe strawberry in the summer. Remember.”
We-no-na promised obedience.
"And go east, beyond the great lakes, to the country of the Algonquins, where you will find the pale-faces of whom you have heard, and who will teach you much that will do your people good, should you ever return to them."
We-no-na bowed her head in acknowledgment that she had stored up in her memory all that the old man had enjoined, She then cooked some venison, but he partook sparingly, and bade her sleep, while he watched. The command was not unwelcome; for she had been much fatigued by her day's work, She slept profoundly for some hours, then started up suddenly, waked by the cold, and found that the fire was decaying fast. She heaped upon it some more wood, then turning to Ish-te-nah, said: "Father, you shall now take your turn to sleep." No answer came from him. We-no-na seized him by the arm: it was cold and stiff The soul of the old warrior had departed.
