MAN ON THE QU'APPELLE TRAIL 31 



As he watched it the driver of the grain wagon re- 

 called again the old Indian legend that haunted this 

 valley and had given it its name how, long ago, a 

 young Indian chieftain was paddling his canoe through 

 these waters on his way to win a bride when suddenly 

 above " the night wind's melancholy song " he heard a 

 voice calling him through the twilight. " Qu'appelle? 

 Qu'appelle ?" he answered in French. " Who calls ?" 

 But only his own voice came back in echoes while the 

 gloom of night deepened and a wan moon rose silently 

 behind the distant hill. Then when he reached the 

 Indian encampment it was only to see the death fires 

 lighted on the shore, to hear the wail of women and to 

 learn that just before her lips had closed forever, his 

 beloved had called for him just at the moon-rise. 

 Thus, ever since, the Indians claimed, strange spirit 

 voices spoke through the lone valley at every rising of 

 the moon. 



Thrilled by the beauty of the valley scene, misty in 

 the moonlight, the big farmer half unconsciously drew 

 rein and listened. All he could hear at first was the 

 impatient stamp of his horses' feet, the mouthing of the 

 bits as the animals tossed their heads restlessly, the 

 clink of the trace-chains; but presently he sensed a 

 subdued undertone of night noises that wafted mys- 

 teriously over the silver water. It was nothing that 

 could be recognized definitely; rather was it an 

 impression of strangely merged minor sounds that grew 

 upon him as imagination was given play under the 

 influence of time and place. It was easy to supply 

 interpretations .of that faint medley, even while one 

 knew that it was merely the murmur of night airs in 

 the dry grasses, the whisper of the water-edges, the 

 stirring of restless water-fowl in the dying reeds. 



