Chapter XIII: Pages

“The years went by swiftly and Lone Star grew into girlhood. Adored by her foster father and his squaw, Singing Bird, her precocious wisdom soon made itself manifest among the tribe.

“Peace-loving, gentle and tolerant, Lone Star exercised great influence over Black Waters, and the Cheyennes lived many, many moons contented and at peace with even their hereditary enemies.

“Under her tuition a plea was sent to the white man by Black Waters, asking them not to entice their warriors with fire-water. On the whole, this plea was respected except by those unprincipled enough to make use of the Indians’ ignorance when their brains were befuddled with liquor. Braves were prohibited from indulging and to those whose behavior lapsed from this rule, punishment was meted accordingly.

“The Cheyennes were not inherently peace-loving and a time came when they chafed under their subjection and longed for war paint and feathers again.

“Lone Star’s serenity was a source of bitterness to the restless braves. Their dislike for her deepened into hate, but they dared not voice this openly in fear of incurring Black Waters’ wrath.

“Young maidenhood found her the virtual ruler of the tribe. Black Waters was getting quite feeble in body, but nevertheless still strong in mind. Then one day when Singing Bird and Lone Star were absent a tragedy occurred.

“Black Waters was slain by some mysterious enemy, a poisoned arrow having found its way into the heart that had known such great love for the waif of the prairies.

“Her grief was unappeasable and with Black Waters’ squaw she went into seclusion for a time.

“A new chief was ruling the domain upon Lone Star’s return. Ruling it contrary to all that she had taught them in her labors of love; for she had grown to love the people of her adoption.

“She and Singing Bird were given a new tepee, but a very cold welcome. It was alongside that of the new ruler, and one evening as she sat outside in the shadows, quite accidentally she overheard a plot. It was being discussed between some braves and the Chief himself who were obviously victims of the white man’s fire-water.

“The plan was to rob the stage coach on its regular run to Santa Fe. One of the tribe had secured the information and reported to his chief that much loot would be secured if the attack was carried out successfully.

“Lone Star deplored this and straightway entered the wigwam, protesting against breaking the long period of peace that they all had shared. Her pleading was all in vain and she was immediately made a prisoner in her own wigwam to prevent any further recurrence of intruding into their affairs. It was understood that she wasn’t to have her freedom until the robbery was over.

“The next morning, goaded on by the highly spirited alcohol, the warriors set forth at dawn for the Old Santa Fe Trail to await their victims at Old Point of Rocks.

“The next day went by and then as the last red glow of evening gave way to the night they returned, victorious and triumphant, bringing with them the fruits of the victory and two male prisoners.

“They were both young men who had been successful in gold mining and on their way to visit in Santa Fe. That they had been saved was due to the unusual bravery displayed by the one--an English gentleman. The fact that the other was his dearest friend and partner saved him also. The red man, admiring bravery more than a life, spared them and brought them back to their tribe for further consultation.

“The chief, a man inclined to malevolence and also wishing to taunt her, demanded that Lone Star come forth to view his prisoners.

“Head erect and eyes flashing proudly, she came. Tossing her raven hair defiantly, she faced them one and all and then glanced at the captives with pity.

“As her eyes met those of the Englishman, the shadows of her life seemed to steal away--for in the light of his eyes was the Light of the World.

“The Englishman, gentlemen, was John Redmond, my great-grandfather!”