Alas! Star-eyed Wah-Wah-Tee forgot her father's blessing! When she reached the village, they said, "You have wandered afar," and asked if she were not hungry. The color glowed on her dusky cheek, her eyes shone like stars, and they marveled at her beauty.
Now, Wah-Wah-Tee sought her tent, and did not hear that news had come that the Apaches were over on the East side, and might dare cross the river, and that watch was to be kept. When Chiefs and braves seemed sound asleep, and above the tree tops the full moon cast a silver radiance over all the land, Wah-Wah-Tee slipped into the shadows; crept until she gained her pathway through the thicket, sped to join her lover at the trysting place. The young Apache lying still upon the river's bluff had seen the silent forms before him — knew the meaning of the watch. When he heard the rustle of the leaves, he waited silently until he saw Wah-Wah-Tee. Quick he told her that they must make all speed up the western bank of the river and gain the Bosque woods 'ere she was missed. Wah-Wah-Tee felt no fears, for was she not with her brave? Did not the moon shine forth in that splendor never seen except 'neath southern skies?
She led the way up a path made by her own dainty moccasined feet. Many a sunny hour had she sat upon the high cliff on the Bosque, and looked across its wooded valleys, while she wove her wild flower-garlands, and her "girlish fond fancies." But even with the dusky savage "the course of true love never did run smooth." With all their native instincts, the beating of their hearts drowned the usually acute sense. Stealthy foot-steps had followed Wah-Wah-Tee from her wigwam, seen the meeting with the lover — guessed its meaning. Returning, he informed the chief, who with the brothers quickly followed. With the wariness of the Indian, they made a noiseless pursuit, thinking to follow across the river and surprise the Apache braves.
A mighty roaring from the Bosque told of swiftly rising water. On came the Chief, vowing vengeance. Savage heart stood still a moment; did not falter. In the moonlight, on the high cliff, he saw the lover clasp Wah-Wah-Tee, while she kissed him, bravely smiling. None dared to shoot the fatal arrow, but with demoniac yell would have rushed upon the Apache. Quick Wah-Wah-Tee and her lover, in the last embrace of love and death, sprang from the cliff into the maddened waves below, since which dreadful night it has been known as "Lovers' Leap."
The sudden currents from the Bosque are an actual fact, and the legend further states that the bodies of the lovers, still clasped in each other's arms, were borne by the swift flood into the Brazos river, and an eddying current cast them ashore near the spot where the Apache had first seen Wah-Wah-Tee.
It is said that sometimes when the spring rains presage a flood, and the moon shines bright; when mocking birds make vocal the still night air, one may see on the cliff the flitting figures of a youth and maid. Perhaps it is only vouchsafed to those whose hearts are ever young!
Oh, ye of youthful or sympathetic heart, shed no tear of pity for the Indian lovers. They were filled with the joy of life — they lived, for they loved, and knew one perfect day!
