She is strong; she can handle the spear;
she can bend the stout bow of the hunter;
And swift on the trail of the deer
will she run o'er the snow on her snow-shoes.
Let the step-mother sit in the tee,
and kindle the fire for my father;
And the cold, cruel winter shall be
a feast-time instead of a famine."
"The White Chief will never return,"
half angrily muttered Ta-te-psin;
"His camp-fire will nevermore burn
in the land of the warriors he slaughtered.
I grieve, for my daughter has said
that she loves the false friend of her kindred;
For the hands of the White Chief are red
with the blood of the trustful Dakotas."
Then warmly Winona replied,
"Tamdoka himself is the traitor,
And the brave-hearted stranger had died
by his treacherous hand in the forest,
But thy daughter's voice bade him beware
of the sly death that followed his footsteps.
The words of Tamdoka are fair,
but his heart is the den of the serpents.
When the braves told their tale like a bird
sang the heart of Winona rejoicing,
But gladlier still had she heard
of the death of the crafty Tamdoka.
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