The following Saturday night found the party encamped in the very bosom of the mountains, in one of the most lovely nooks upon the surface of the earth. As they looked around upon the verdant dell, and upon the snow-capped mountains that arose in the distance, all the arid plain they had passed,—the desert of alkali, and the hills of sand—seemed like a dream, so great was the contrast between them and Virginia Dale. Even George was enraptured, and when the children as usual gathered at evening around the fire, he declared that he would go no father but turn hermit, and hunt and fish for a living, in that lovely spot.  
 
"I wish I could stay with you," said Aggie, "but I shouldn't like to leave papa and mamma. But only look at the moon rising above that snowy peak; isn't it perfectly lovely?"
 
"Watching the moon is all very well?" exclaimed Gus, "but I would much rather hear a good story. This is the very night for a story, and a sentimental one at that. Guy get your thinking-cap on, that's a good fellow!"
 
"Oh yes, do!" assented Aggie.
 
"I have had it tightly drawn over my ears the whole time I have been sitting here," answered Guy laughing, "and the result is that I have been thinking of a story the Indians tell about the first snow storm."
 
"Oh yes! put it all off on the Indians!" cried Gus, "we all know what that means!"
 
"Well, what do they say?" asked George, "that they thought it was salt, and put it into their soup, and were surprised to find that it made it watery—and nothing more?"
 
"Now don't tease Guy," interrupted Aggie, "I want to know what the Indians really did say, and where the first fall of snow really was."
 
"According to my authority," answered Guy, gravely, "it took place among these very mountains. Years, years ago, so many years that all remembrance of the time is now lost, and only vague reports of it remain, the snowy mountains we now see were covered with verdure, even more luxuriant than that which makes this vale so beautiful. The long leaves, and the shining silk of the corn waved in the breeze that softly played about the lofty summits, lovely flowers opened, and rich fruits ripened in the warm sunshine that ever fell upon them. The bounding deer came to the very doors of the wigwams that were so thickly placed that they seemed to form a vast city, and the very trout in the sparkling streams leaped into the hands of the happy people that inhabited this earthly paradise!"
 
"Gracious, what a saving of fishing-tackle!" ejaculated George.
 
Guy took no notice of this irreverent remark, but continued:
 
"On the very summit of yonder peak, which seems to rise at least a thousand feet above its neighbors, and where the sun shone the warmest, the grains and fruits were most luxuriant, and the deer larger and tamer than in any other place, lived an old man, the chief of all the tribes that lived between the mountains and the great ocean in the far west. The oldest men amongst the Indians could not remember when he was young, and their great-grandfathers had told them that he was old when they were children. His beard was like silver, and his face bore the marks of that wisdom which can only come with age, yet his form was not bent, and his eyes were as strong as the eagle's, that soars up and looks in the face of the sun."
 
"Wonderful man!" said Gus.
 
"He was indeed wonderful, and the wisest man upon the earth; he knew all secrets of the land, and sea, and air, and from them he had gained the elixir that still kept the blood warm in his veins after the lapse of centuries, but he could not get from them contentment,—his soul at last wearied of the habit of clay it had worn so long, and he began a search for one worthy to be the inheritor of his wisdom, and the successor of his power, that he might lie down and be at rest.
 
"He found one at length, but not among the young men of his tribe, among whom he sought long and patiently. The strength of mind, the purity of soul he desired, were found only in the person of a lovely girl, the daughter of one of the bravest warriors of the mountains. To her he gave the elixir of life, and instructed her in all the secrets he had gained. Lastly, he took off the robe he wore, and putting it upon her, led her out of the wigwam and declared her a priestess before all the people. Soon after the great magician became a decrepit old man, the weight of his years came upon him and he died, and his body was laid upon a burning pile and consumed to ashes, while all the people mourned around it. Then the priestess went to her wigwam on the high mountains and sat down and thought of the last words the dead man had said to her, 'Beware of him who reigneth at the northernmost part of the earth, for if thou showest weakness or any human passion he will have dominion over thee and all thy people.' But years passed on and no human feeling agitated her. She lived alone communing with spirits, and at sundry times appearing among the people to astonish them by her wisdom which as years advanced, become a thousand times more potent than had been that of the old magician. And as her wisdom increased so also did her beauty. Spirits came and took the ebony from her hair, and covered it with gold; they brought blue from the skies and prisoned it in her eyes; the white stars laid their light upon her face, and sunbeams rendered her smile so warm and tender that it gladdened all upon whom it fell.
 
"As I have said, she was troubled by no human feeling; but alas! she inspired what she did not feel, for all the young braves worshipped her, not only as a priestess, but as a peerless maiden, and all their awe could not destroy their love. As she knew every thing, she was of course aware of their silent devotion, but she laughed in the solitude of he............