Part 7 (2/2)

”You say those words so often,” she replied sorrowfully, ”and I try to obey, but cannot War is terrible to rew harsher, his hand ceased to stroke her hair

”And has Multnomah, chief of the Willahter say that war is terrible to her?

Have you nothing of your father in you? Remember the tales of the brave women of Multnomah's race,--the women whose blood is in your veins Re words in the council, and went forth with the arht of blood?”

The old wistful look caain One could see nohy it was there

”My father,” she said sorrowfully, ”Wallulah has tried to love those things, but she cannot She cannot change the heart the Great Spirit has given her She cannot bring herself to be a woman of battle any more than she can sound a war-cry on her flute,” and she lifted it as she spoke

He took it into his own hands

”It is this,” he said, breaking down the sensitive girl in the same despotic way in which he bent the wills of warriors; ”it is this that makes you weak Is it a charm that draws the life from your heart? If so, it can be broken”

Another moment and the flute would have been broken in his ruthless hands and its fraght it from him with a plaintive cry

”It was my mother's If you break it you will break ry features quivered at the mention of her mother, and he instantly released the flute Wallulah clasped it to her bosom as if it represented in some way the ain her father's hand rested on her head, and she knew that he too was thinking of her ainst the Indian custoht only talk with her father about her h it were but a few brief words! Never since her mother's death had her name been mentioned between theer, to his As their glances met, it seemed as if the veil that had been between their diverse natures was for a moment lifted, and they understood each other better than they ever had before While his look imposed silence and sealed her lips as with a spoken coleam of tenderness in it that said, ”I understand, I too remember; but it etting closer to her father's heart, even while his eyes held her back and bade her be silent

At length the chief spoke, this tiirl but as to a woman You are Multnomah's only child When he dies there will be no one but you to take his place Are your shoulders strong enough to bear the weight of power, the weight that crushes men? Can you break down revolt and read the hearts of plotters,--yes, and detect conspiracy when it is but a whisper in the air? Can you sway council and battle to your will as the warrior bends his bow? No; it takesof heart, to rule the races of the Wauna Therefore there is but one way left me whereby the line of Multnoone I reat warrior who can take th Then the na the tribes, though Multnomah himself be cru confused and pained, by no means elated at the future he had described

”Have you never thought of this,--that soive you to a warrior?”

Her head drooped lower and her cheek faintly flushed

”Sometimes”

”But you have chosen no one?”

”I do not know,” she faltered

Her father's hand still rested on her head, but there was an expression on his face that showed he would not hesitate to sacrifice her happiness to his ambition

”You have chosen, then? Is he a chief? No, I will not ask that; the daughter of Multnomah could love no one but a chief I have already selected a husband for you Tear this other love from your heart and cast it aside”

The flush died out of her cheek, leaving it cold and ashen; and her fingers worked nervously with the flute in her lap

He continued coldly,--

”The fah all the land The chief of the Chopponish[2] has offered many horses for you, and the chief of the Spokanes, our ancient foes, has said there would be peace between us if I gave you to hie to him will knit the bravest tribe of the confederacy to us; he will take ”

She ranite will? All the grace andand dull alirl noaiting to learn the name of him as to be her master