The sad swish of the west wind over the tall grass told that he was slowly dying away before his enemy, the north wind.

The sound of dropping nuts was heard under the motionless trees.
For Joe the days were days of enchantment.

His wild heart had found its mate.

A willing captive he was now.

All his fancy for other women, all his memories faded into love for his Indian bride.
Whispering Winds charmed the eye, mind, and heart.