into the forest."

"Perhaps they have not an arrow inside of them as have I."

Nautauquas had seated himself in the crotch of a dogwood-tree and looked
with interest at his sister below him.

"An arrow?" he queried; "what dost thou mean?"

"I think," she answered, speaking slowly, "that within me is an
arrow--not of wood and stone, but one of manitou--how shall I explain it
to thee? I must go forth to distances, to deeds. I am shot forward by
some bow and I may not hang idle in a quiver. I know," she continued,
fingering the quiver on his back, "how thine own arrow feels after thou
hast fashioned it carefully of strong wood and bound its head upon it
with thongs. It says to itself; 'I am happy here, hanging in my warm bed
on Nautauquas's back.' And then when thou takest it in thy hand and
fittest its notch to the bowstring, it crieth out: 'Now I shall speed
forth; now shall I cut the wind; now shall I journey where no arrow ever
journeyed before; now shall I achieve what I was fashioned for!'"

"Strange thoughts are these, little sister, for a maid to think," and
Nautauquas stroked the long braid against his knee.

"I am so happy, Nautauquas," she went on. "I love the warm lodge, the
fire embers in the centre, the smoke curling up towards the stars I can
see through the opening above me. I love to feel little Cleopatra's feet
touching my head as we lie there together. But then I feel the arrow
within me and I rise to my feet silently and creep out, and if the dogs
hear me I whisper to them and they lie down quietly again. I love