Theodore Goodridge Roberts

“ If I whistle twice, he will know that I am not alone."
"He must be an unpleasant old man to live with," said Walking Moose; and because of the foolishness that was brewing in his heart he felt no suspicion. He stood inert, gazing down at Shining Star's glossy head, while she gave vent to two long, shrill whistles.
"That will let him know that a visitor is coming," she said. "It will give him time to get a pleasant smile on his face."
This appeared to Walking Moose as the most excellent wit. Again they advanced, and soon they came to a little lodge of birchbark set in a grove of young firs. ”

“ The big trout came up like a bird, described a graceful curve in the sunlight, and descended smack upon the rock. He was dispatched in a moment by a blow at the base of the head.
"There is a fine trout for your cooking-pot," said Walking Moose, boyishly delighted with his success. "Now I'll see if there is another in the pool."
"But you have not made a name for me yet," said the girl.
"True," replied the young man. "Catching fish is easier." He looked shyly at the girl, then very steadily at the gleaming dead trout. "You are like a trout," he said, with hesitation. ”

“ In the old, old days Gluskap had smitten the Mohawks on more than one occasion, so tradition said, but to be smitten with magic by a god and victoriously invaded by Maliseets were misfortunes of a very different nature. The warriors were furious, and the insulting fact that Walking Moose had left their lodges standing, their storehouses full, and their families beside them added to their fury. They bandaged their wounds, put their dead away, and sent the only uninjured man of the village to carry the outrageous news westward and raise a war-party. ”

“ One young man escaped, one whose lungs were stronger than his heart. He carried word of the disaster throughout the Mohawk country.
Spring passed and summer came. The village of which Walking Moose was chief enjoyed quiet and security. The warriors of the White Salmon carried on their fishing in all the swift brooks and rivers, but they kept their shields and war clubs beside them, and far-sighted runners were on guard in the hills, day and night. ”

“ Until recently, the Mohawks had never lacked opportunity of acquiring the Maliseet language.
"I sometimes fish in that pool, chief. But I will go away and fish somewhere else," she replied, modestly.
"Do not go," he said. "Come down and fish here if you want to. The pools of the river are free to all honest Maliseets."
Without more ado, the girl crawled forward, turned, and slid down to the flat rock beside Walking Moose. In her left hand she held a short coil of transparent fish-line made from the intestines of some animal. Her small face was flushed. ”

“ Here and there are amber pools and green-black eddies; here and there a length of shallows that flashes silver and gold at noon; and here is that roaring place where the river leaps a sheer fall of thirty feet in one unbroken white curve—the Veil of Flying Water. ”

“ During the winter Walking Moose's men were busy at making shields and weapons; and late in March, when the depths of snow were covered with a tough crust, a war party of the people of the White Salmon went swiftly to the westward and fell upon and destroyed a village of the Mohawks. But the only men who died at the hands of the victors were those who fell fighting. No prisoners were made on that occasion. The women and children were not harmed, the lodges and storehouses were spared. Only the weapons of the warriors were taken. ”

“ I In those days an active man could not keep on friendly terms with everybody. If he acted honestly by his own clan, or his own village, he was sure to be in bad odour with some other clan or tribe. So it was with Walking Moose, a young chief of that clan of the Maliseets that had a white salmon for its totem. ”

“ What would be the end of his good fighting and great dreams if he spent any more time in such foolishness?
"I am not a poet," he said. "A man who pushes his shield between the lodges of the Mohawks has no time for the making of songs." ”

“ Because of his sharp tongue he became disliked by the people of the village, and so we journeyed to this place, and built a little hidden lodge. Never Sleep is very old, and spends all his days in brewing healing liquors from roots and barks. ”