Que-la-wah suffered not beyond his just deserts. The ruthless invader of the domestic sanctuary is held a savage among savages, and unworthy to enjoy the boon of life.
Omaint-si-ar-nah dispatched his warriors and chosen men, while he and Gray-Eagle set their faces due north to hunt up the nest of Gentle Dove. A secret voice assured him that she still lived. For three days they travelled to no purpose, calling loudly, wherever they went, the name of Nito-me-ma.
"A cruel husband," said the chief, sorrowfully, "who banishes his wife, puts her, indeed, afar off. Great is the interval betwixt them. Moons wax and wane. Rivers flow. Time and distance interpose their great gulfs. There is no straight line; we wander uncertain, for the ways of the ungrateful are crooked."
On the fourth day, Omaint-si-ar-nah found an arrow sticking in an oak, and beneath it were hieroglyphic symbols lately cut, for the wounded bark had not long healed over them. Here was the spot whore the lurking traitor stood who had since met his doom. The chief examined the inscription carefully, then clapped his hands and uttered a slight yell. Gray-Eagle made a signal from a distance. On the margin of a brook he had discovered the tiny foot-prints of a child, and near by were pebbles and smooth stones arranged upon the sands, while a critical scrutiny of the surrounding places showed that the twigs had been slightly bent aside or broken. Following these indications for several hours, and often losing the faint trail toward sun-down, Omaint-si-ar-nah paused suddenly.
"I smell the smell of smoke," said he. "Wigwams are not far off." He put his ear close to the ground, then rose up, tightened his girdle, and called Gray-Eagle to his side. "Advance," said he, moving with rapidity, "let not the grass grow in the path." As the day declined, they came upon the certain signs of a habitation. The earth was well tracked and beaten in diverging foot-paths, the sound of voices began to be heard, and the low chaunting of an Indian song. At last the bower of Gentle Dove appeared in sight. She sat without it in the shade, engaged in painting and in decorating barken sandals, and busily intent upon her work. Morning-Glory was feeding the tame buffalo with handfuls of the wild clover. Omaint-si-ar-nah
