It was not so very unusual for the ong to claim a victim, and, besides, the youth had been warned by his elders that he should not go hunting alone as had been his habit of late.
But while the warriors were working themselves up into a fine frenzy of eloquence in trying to remind the old chief of their bygone deeds of daring, an Indian maiden was paddling a canoe swiftly and silently toward the middle of the Lake.

Nona, the chief's daughter understood no more than the rest why her lover had not been dropped into the Lake, nor why the ong had acted so queerly, but she knew that she could die with her lover.

She took her own frail canoe because it was so light and easy to row, though it was made for her when a girl, and would scarcely support her weight now.

It mattered nothing to her if the water splashed over the sides; it mattered nothing how she reached her lover.

She kept saying his name over softly to herself, "Tahoe! My darling Tahoe!" When the council was finished, the women went to her hut to bid her come and hear the decision her father was about to render.