Then, chanting their death song, they marched in procession to the
tall cliff, that rose sheer out of the water. One by one, each
uttering the name of her beloved, leaped into the waves.

Men at a distance, knowing nothing of the fight, and sailors and
fishermen far off on the water, thought that a flock of white birds
were swooping down from their eyrie, into the sea to get their food
from the fishes. But when none rose up above the waters, they
understood, and later heard the whole story of the valor of the men
and the devotion of the women.

The solemn silence of night soon brooded over the scene.

The men of the valley stayed only long enough to bury their own dead.
Then they marched home and their houses were filled with mourning. Yet
they admired the noble sacrifice of their daughters and were proud of
them. Afterwards they raised stone monuments on the field of
slaughter.

To-day, this water is called the Lake of the Maidens, and the great
stones seen near the beach are the memorials marking the place of the
slain in battle.

During many centuries, the ancient custom of capturing the bride, with
resistance from her male relatives, was vigorously kept up. In the
course of time, however, this was turned into a mimic play, with much
fun and merriment. Yet, the girls appear to like it, and some even
complain if it is not rough enough to seem almost real.