Provo High School - Provost Yearbook (Provo, UT)

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LEGEND OF BRIDAL VEIL FALL—Modern Version Many years ago there dwelt here a powerful band of Indians called the Uintahs whose chieftain had a very beautiful daughter. She had chosen Fleet Foot out of all the warriors. Before the wedding feast the chieftain and his warriors had gone for one more battle with their enemies, the Piutes. Norita had wandered high on the mountain waiting for her chieftain's and lover's return. She did not know that they were slain and that the Piutes were on their way to claim the spoils. Seeing the beautiful maiden, the Piutes sought to capture her. Norita fled up the mountain until she came to the fall. Looking back and seeing the enemy close behind her, she jumped. Later the Piutes fancied they could see the Indian maiden on the edge of the cliff, slowly rising and falling and shrieking and crying for the loved ones she had lost. When the third moon had waned, the Piutes left the valley, never to return again. Bridal Veil Fall is so called because that is the bridal veil Norita chose on her wedding day. —Celia A. Van Co ft

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THE LEGEND OF SQUAW PEAK When redskins roamed the sage-brush plains of Utah, In days of steadfast, struggling pioneers, When stalked the grim and gaunt spectre of starvation, To fill less stalwart hearts with harrowing fears, There lived a native mother of the tepee, Who, unknown to her tribe, became the friend, In times of war, of these strange, pale-faced people, And every effort gave her aid to lend. Then came a day when soared dark winged suspicion Among the braves and women of the tribe; Some babbling tongue there must be barbed with treason, Or one, perchance, the white man's wiles might bribe. Stealthily the red men watched and waited, For, now another .battle they would wage, Watched the fleet shod feet of Wyannona, Shadowed her each step with seething rage. The soul—the dauntless soul of Wyannona Weighed well the menace of impending fate, Yet fear deterred not; she would save God's children Who labored to reclaim a barren state. Swiftly sped she on her timely errand To warn that when should rise the morrow's sun, The ravening revenge of savage warfare Would, mayhap, of life rob every one. Then, rather than endure the tribal tortures, From stark and rugged peak, her body flung Down—down to meet Death's outstretched arms relentless. Her requiem by surging waves was sung. Long, long will be remembered Wyanonna— Long as the mountain stands and man can speak, For towering high is it among its fellows, The height her prowess gave its name— Squaw Peak. —Grace Ingles Frost