Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 6 | Page 6

saved the
Spaniard's life, and it was some time before Michel could be made to
understand that Garcia was there under promise of safe conduct, and
that the representatives of King Louis were in honor bound to see that
he was not injured. The points at issue between the two men were
reviewed, and the governor gave it as his decision that Michel must pay
his debt without interest, that being forfeit by the Spaniard's abduction
of Genevieve, and that the Spaniard was to restore the girl, both parties
in the case being remanded to prison until they had obeyed this
judgment.
"But I have your promise of safe conduct!" cried the Spaniard, blazing
with wrath.
"And you shall have it when the girl returns," replied the governor.
"You shall be protected in going and coming, but there is no reference
in the paper that you hold as to how long we may wish to keep you
with us."
Both men were marched away forthwith, but Michel was released in an
hour, for in that time the people had subscribed enough to pay his debt.
The Spaniard sent a messenger to a renegade who had little Genevieve
in keeping, and next day he too went free, swearing horribly, but glad
to accept the service of an armed escort until he was well out of town.
Michel embraced his child with ardor when once she was in his arms
again; then he lighted his pipe and set out with her for home, convinced
that French law was the best in the world, that Spaniards were not to be
trusted, and that it is safer to keep one's earnings under the floor than to
venture them in trade.

WALLEN'S RIDGE
A century ago this rough eminence, a dozen miles from Chattanooga,
Tennessee, was an abiding place of Cherokee Indians, among whom

was Arinook, their medicine-man, and his daughter. The girl was pure
and fair, and when a white hunter saw her one day at the door of her
father's wigwam he was so struck with her charm of person and her
engaging manner that he resolved not to return to his people until he
had won her for his wife. She had many lovers, though she favored
none of them, and while the Cherokees were at first loth to admit a
stranger to their homes they forgot their jealousy when they found that
this one excelled as a hunter and fisherman, that he could throw the
knife and tomahawk better than themselves, and that he was apt in their
work and their sports.
They even submitted to the inevitable with half a grace when they
found that the stranger and the girl of whom they were so fond were in
love. With an obduracy that seems to be characteristic of fathers, the
medicine-man refused his consent to the union, and the hearts of the
twain were heavy. Though the white man pleaded with her to desert her
tribe, she refused to do so, on the score of duty to her father, and the
couple forlornly roamed about the hill, watching the sunset from its top
and passing the bright summer evenings alone, sitting hand in hand,
loving, sorrowing, and speaking not. In one of their long rambles they
found themselves beside the Tennessee River at a point where the
current swirls among rocks and sucks down things that float,
discharging them at the surface in still water, down the stream. Here for
a time they stood, when the girl, with a gush of tears, began to sing--it
was her death-song. The white man grasped her hand and joined his
voice to hers. Then they took a last embrace and flung themselves into
the water, still hand in hand.
When the river is low you may hear their death-song sounding there.
The manitous of the river and the wood were offended with the
medicine-man because of his stubbornness and cruelty, although he
suffered greatly because of the death his daughter died, and he the
cause of it. For now strange Indians appeared among the Cherokees and
drove the deer and bear away. Tall, strong, and large were these
intruders, and they hung about the village by day and night--never
speaking, yet casting a fear about them, for they would throw great
rocks farther than a warrior could shoot an arrow with the wind behind
him; they had horns springing from their heads; their eyes were the
eyes of wild-cats, and shone in the dark; they growled like animals,

shaking the earth when they did so, and breathing flame; they were at
the bedside, at the council-fire, at the banquet, seeming only to wait for
a show of enmity to annihilate the tribe.
At length the people could endure their company no longer, and taking