494 The Book of Woodcraft 



dead but herself. In the village she had no other kins- 

 folk ; thus she was left alone in the world : 



Blind friends buried the dead, and the many different ones 

 asked the girl to come and live with them; but she refused them 

 all. "You must go and live with some one," said the chief. 

 "No one ever heard of a young woman hving by herself. You 

 cannot live alone. Where would you procure your food? And 

 think of what people would say, should you do so; you would 

 soon have a bad name." 



"If people speak ill of me, I cannot help it," said the girl. 

 "They will live to take back their bad words. I have decided 

 to do this, and I will find a way to keep from star\dng." 



So this girl lived on alone in the lodge her parents had built, 

 and with no company save her dogs. The women of the camp 

 frequently visited her and gave her meat and other food, but no 

 man, either young or old, ever went in and sat by her fire. One 

 or two had attempted it, but only once, for she had told them 

 plainly that she did not wish the society of any man. So the 

 youths gazed at her from afar, and prayed the gods to soften her 

 heart. She was a handsome young woman, a hard and cease- 

 less toiler; no wonder that the men fell in love with her, and no 

 wonder that they named her No-Heart. 



One young man. Long Elk, son of the great chief, loved the 

 lone girl so much that he was nearly crazy with the pain and 

 longing for her. He had never spoken to her, well knowing 

 that her answer woidd be that which she had given to others. 

 But he could not help going about, day after day, where she 

 could always see him. If she worked in her little bean and corn 

 patch he sat on the edge of the river-bank nearby. If she went 

 to the timber for wood, he strolled out in that direction, often 

 meeting her on the trail, but she always passed him with eyes 

 cast down, as if she had not seen him. Often, in the night, when 

 all the camp was fast asleep, Long Elk would steal out of his 

 father's lodge, pick up a water skin, and filling it again and 

 again at the river, would water every row in No-Heart's garden. 

 At the risk of his life he would go out alone on the plains where 

 the Sioux were always prowling, and hunt. In the morning 

 when No-Heart awoke and went out, she would find hanging 

 in the dark entrance way, choice portions of meat, the skin of a 



