His heart had gone into the young heart of the boy, and he longed to see The Light of the Eagle's Plume, sitting in his place amid the councilors of the nation and so beginning a new history of the ancient people.
[Illustration: _At the Cascades of the Columbia_.] The full moon of October is a night sun in the empires of the Columbia and the Puget Sea.

No nights in the world can be more clear, lustrous, and splendid than those of the mellowing autumn in the valleys of Mount Saint Helens, Mount Hood, and the Columbia.

The moon rises over the crystal peaks and domes like a living glory, and mounts the deep sky amid the pale stars like a royal torch-bearer of the sun.

The Columbia is a rolling flood of silver, and the gigantic trees of the centuries become a ghostly and shadowy splendor.

There is a deep and reverent silence everywhere, save the cry of the water-fowl in the high air and the plash of the Cascades.