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 When the young brave returned with the medicine and the people were made well, the old men of the tribe gave him honor, and the women of the tribe blessed him.

On the third occasion the young warrior led a band of his fellows in combat with a tribe of their enemies, and overthrew them. Those who were not killed fled in confusion. And again he was honored by all his tribe.

But now the young warrior's mind was troubled, and favor and honor no longer satisfied his heart. Among the tribe of the enemy that he had conquered, he had seen a maiden who had won his love.

Unknown to her, and hidden, he had watched as she moved about the wigwam of her father. He had followed the fleeing enemy, and had come silently to the outskirts of their village, and there he discovered the maiden who alone had stirred his heart.

"I must have her for my very own! She shall be the light of my wigwam!" he cried.

So he stayed in the forest near the village of the enemy, and there he sang all the songs that the Indian lover sings, and always they were in praise of the graceful maiden whom he loved.