May 19, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
785 

and she shook me as hard as she could. 
didn’t you teach me your language? 
quick, who she is. What said they? 
he tell my daughter?” 
I explained it all as clearly as I could, and 
then Nat-ah’-ki nearly went crazy with joy. She 
danced around me, and kissed me, and said that 
I was a good boy. I hoped I was. I couldn’t 
see, though, that I had done anything to further 
this much-desired end of affairs between Ashton 
and Diana. We came upon them sitting on the 
shore end of our ferryboat. ‘‘Come here,” said 
Ashton, Diana jumped up and embraced Nat- 
ah’-ki, and the two went back to the house. 
Side dian, «4: /said, “I congratulate you: 
You’ve found peace and happiness, as you well 
said a few moments ago. You can’t help being 
happy with Diana.” 
“Ah!” he exclaimed, “isn’t she—my boy, what 
she is to me, has long been, is beyond the tell- 
ing. I feel that I am not worthy of her; yet she 
loves me devotedly, truly. She told me so here 
to-night.” 
“But about the other one?” I ventured, ‘‘What 
are we going to do with her?” 
“She cannot go back to-night. Have Nat- 
ah’-ki give her something to eat and a bed. I 
presume her driver can look out for himself.” 
“That woman has been the curse of my life,” 
_ he added. “I loved her deeply, devotedly. She 
promised to marry me. I believed in her good- 
ness and faithfulness as one does in that of his 
mother. But she threw me over for a wealthier 
man. And now—now—well, enough of her; I’m 
going to find Diana and ask her to walk with 
me.” 
“Why 
Tell me 
What did 
“There is some cold boiled meat,” said Nat- 
ah’-ki, ‘some bread and stewed sarvis berries. 
If she will come into the Indian country hunting 
my daughter’s man, even that is too good for 
her. I will make her a bed of buffalo robes 
and blankets, although she doesn’t deserve it.” 
But the woman would not eat. Nat-ah’-ki 
made a bed for her on the floor of the trade 
room, and there we left her to her thoughts— 
and they were no doubt bitter. In the morning 
she asked for Ashton, begged me tell him to 
come to her for a moment. I told her that he 
had gone hunting and would not return until 
evening. She chafed at the driver’s delay in 
hitching up, refused anything but a cup of coffee 
which I carried in to her. At last the team 
was ready, and she got in and started away 
without once looking back, without even thank- 
ing us for her night’s lodging. And thus she 
passed out of Ashton’s life. 
I had told her truly that Ashton had gone 
hunting; he and Diana had ridden away at sun- 
up, but I imagine they did not go far—waiting 
on some nearby hill to see the visitor depart. 
As soon as the conveyance had crossed the bot- 
tom and climbed the hill up on to the plain, 
they returned, as happy and high-spirited as two 
children, and we all had breakfast together. 
“This is what we may call our wedding break- 
fast,” said Ashton, as we all sat down. 
“That so?” Berry asked. “Are you going 
in to the fort to-day and be married? You 
can’t make it with such a late start.” 
“No,” he replied, hesitatingly. “No. Diana 
and I have talked the matter over, and we are 
agreed that a simple signed and witnessed mar- 
riage contract is just as valid as is a marriage 
before a justice of the peace or by a clergyman. 

We intend to make it out this morning. What 
think you, friends?” 
“Tt strikes me all right,” said Berry. 
“And me, too,” I replied. 
“My parents married without any ceremony 
whatever,” Diana remarked. “Any way, what 
pleases my Chief pleases me.” She looked across 
at him, and there was a world of love and faith 
in her eyes. 
Nat-ah’-ki, sitting by my side, gently pressed 
my knee, which was one of her ways of asking 
what was being said. I told her, but she made 
no comment, remaining silent during the meal. 
The old women and Mrs. Berry were pleased 
with the idea. “Ai!” said the Crow Woman. 
“Let him fix the paper. It is enough; writing 
cannot lie. What matters a Black Robe saying 
many words? People married and lived hap- 
pily together all their lives before these talking 
men were ever heard of. They can do so still.” 
But, after breakfast Nat-ah’-ki called me aside. 
“Will this way of writing things make her sure 
enough his wife?” she asked. “A wife according 
to the white men’s laws?” 
“Indeed it will,” I replied. “It will be a mar- 
riage that can no more be put aside than ours. 
As strong as if a thousand Black Robes together 
had-said the words.” 
“Tt is well then; I am glad; let them do it 
at once. I want to see my-daughter married 
and happy with this good man.” 
Right there on the dining table, the breakfast 
things having been cleared away, we drew up 
the paper, Ashton and I. Omitting the date 
and signatures, it read: 
“We, the undersigned, hereby agree to live 
together as man and wife until death parts us.” 
Short, wasn’t it? They signed it. So did 
Berry and I as witnesses, the women standing 
by and watching us interestedly. Then ‘Ashton 
took Diana in his arms and kissed her gently 
before us all. There were tears in her eyes. 
You see how frank and open they were before 
us; not at all ashamed to show their love, ex- 
press their feelings. It did us good. We felt 
that we were witnessing something very sacred, 
very ennobling. It made us think good thoughts; 
gave us the desire to lead better lives ourselves. 
They went out, remounted their horses and 
passed the day somewhere on the big plains 
which Diana loved so well. In the evening we 
saw them returning, riding slowly side by side. 
“The Sun is good,” said Nat-ah’-ki. “He has 
listened to my prayers and given them perfect 
happiness. Tell, me, do you love me as much 
as he does my beautiful daughter?” 
Never mind what my answer was. 
it was satisfactory. 
The marriage contract was sent in to Fort 
Benton and recorded by the County Clerk. Un- 
less it was burned in the fire which destroyed the 
Court House some years later, the curious may 
find the transcription there. The contract itself 
stamped with the county seal, was duly returned 
and given to Diana. 
I think 
We now made ready for a hunt, long post- 
poned, Nat-ah’-ki sent for her mother, I for 
my good friends Weasel Tail and Talks-with- 
the-Buffalo, just three lodges of us. They hav- 
ing arrived, we pulled out westward one lovely 
July morning, en route to the Two Medicine 
Lakes. Passing the Medicine Rock, Nat-ah’-ki 
seriously and Diana mischievously laid upon it 
little sacrifices, the former a bead necklace, the 
latter a bow of ribbon from her hair. For some 
ten or twelve miles the trail led over the high 
rolling plains, where we saw some antelope 
and a few buffalo. Weasel Tail circled out and 
killed one of the former, a fat, dry doe. which 
saved Ashton and me from making any exer- 
tion toward supplying meat that hot day. ’Twas 
more pleasant when we again rode down into 
the valley of the Marias, where the trail wound 
through cool groves of cottonwood, crossing 
and recrossing the river, over shallow, rippling 
fords, where the animals drank as if they could 
never get enough. Late in the afternoon we 
arrived at Willows Round, a large, broad bot- 
tom, where good old Sorrel Horse had, as he 
said, ceased from wandering and built himself 
a home. At that time this place, our Fort 
Conrad, and Mose Solomon’s, at the mouth of 
the river, were the only ones located on the 
whole length of the Marias. Now, every last 
bottom on both sides of it, no matter how small, 
dry, and worthless it may be, is enclosed with 
some one’s wire fence. 
Our lodges were pitched near the new cabin 
of peeled, shining logs, and we strolled over 
to inspect it. Sorrel Horse greeted Diana with 
marked embarrassment. She seemed to him, 
with her dainty, gracious ways, dressed as she 
was, in a wonderfully becoming out-door suit, 
to be a creature from a far and unknown world. 
He addressed her as ‘Miss Ashton.” I cor- 
rected him. “Mrs. Ashton,” he said, “excuse 
me, mam.” 
Diana walked over and placed a hand on his 
shoulder. ‘Dear friend,” she said, “ig that all 
the greeting you have for me—can’t you wish 
me joy?” 
His constrained manner disappeared instantly ; 
he bent over and lightly kissed her. “Bless 
your heart,” he said. “T wish you all the happ: 
ness in this world. Put it there; shake.” 
In the evening he brought over a bundle of 
fine beaver skins and threw them down by the 
doorway of our lodge. “Here’s something,” 
he told Diana, “for your wedding present. 
They'll make you a warm cloak. Somehow 
this ranchin’ business don’t hit me right; it’s too 
lonesome, and I can’t help but go out an’ set 
my traps once in a while.” 
Bear Head was camping with Sorrel Horse, 
herding the cattle and making himself generally 
useful; but when we came along he threw up 
his job and ordered his wife to make prepara- 
tions to accompany us. The grim old moun- 
tains were calling him also. There were now 
four lodges of us. Bear Head’s the greatest, for 
it sheltered a half dozen children of: various 
ages. Their happy laughter and prattle enliv- 
ened our otherwise quiet camp. 
In the morning an early start was made, and 
evening found us away up on the Medicine 
River, where the first pines grow. The next 
noon we went into camp on the shores of the 
lake, our lodges being pitched in a grassy little 
bit of prairie on the north side. Back of us 
rose the long, high pine and quaking aspen 
ridge, which divides the deep valley from the 
plains. In front, across the lake, was a long 
cliff-topped mountain of gray sandstone, its 
slope densely forested with pines. The grand 
view was to the west. First, but three or four 
miles distant, a huge heart-shaped snow-patched 
