They have finished the song and the sacred dance,
And hand in hand to the feast advance--
To the polished bowls of the golden maize,
And the sweet fawn-meat in the polished trays.
Then up from his seat in the silent crowd
Rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall Red Cloud;
Swift was his stride as the panther's spring,
When he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair;
Wiwaste he caught by her flowing hair,
And dragged her forth from the Sacred Ring.
She turned on the warrior, her eyes flashed fire;
Her proud lips quivered with queenly ire;
And her sun-browned cheeks were aflame with red.
Her hand to the spirits she raised and said:
"I am pure!--I am pure as the falling snow!
Great _Taku-skan-skan_[51] will testify!
And dares the tall coward to say me no?"
But the sullen warrior made no reply.
She turned to the chief with her frantic cries:
"Wakawa,--my Father! he lies,--he lies!
Wiwaste is pure as the fawn unborn;
Lead me back to the feast or Wiwaste dies!"
But the warriors uttered a cry of scorn,
And he turned his face from her pleading eyes.
Then the sullen warrior, the tall Red Cloud,
Looked up and spoke and his voice was loud;
But he held his wrath and he spoke with care:
"Wiwaste is young; she is proud and fair,
But she may not boast of the virgin snows.
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