s that lone hunter to surprise--
His gaze the wide horizon ranges low
For the first glimpse of his returning foe;
The painted lodge full many a glance doth win--
Each moment may reveal who lurks within!

At last it moves--that swinging oval door--
At last she steps upon the prairie floor,
Shading her dark eyes from the dazzling ray--
A dusky princess, lovelier than the day!
No matron, to her hidden foeman's sight,
Has ever seemed so radiantly bright.
Her dress is rich, in style unlike the Sioux.
(These belles in doe-skin have their fashions, too!)

On either shoulder lies a jetty braid;
Her slender form, most delicately made,
Her deep, black eyes and winsome features miss
Naught of proportion. What a conquest this!
To such an enemy who would not bow?
Truly our warrior is a captive now!
Vainly she gazes--turns and disappears,
His beating heart our youthful hero hears!
Rashly he thinks to follow and surprise
This charming stranger--carry off the prize
Before her lord's return. By impulse led,
To the low door he stoops his stately head,
Flings a last hurried glance to left and right,
Then enters, and beholds this beauty bright
Seated upon a pile of costly skins,
Embroidering her hunter's moccasins!
He stands abashed--she glances up to greet
His hasty entrance with a smile so sweet,
Then drops her lashes with such coquetry.
Amazed, he thinks, "No mortal woman she,
Who does not fear a stranger entering so!
Rather some teasing fairy, or a doe
In woman's form."
Abruptly he exclaims
"What are you--a Dakota?" As he names
That warlike tribe, at last she starts, and shakes
Her head; then with her slender fingers makes,
Slowly, the signs all tribes of Indians know--
"I do not speak your language."

"Is it so?
Where is your husband?" asks our hero young,
In this same silent, yet most graphic tongue.
"I am the daughter of a Blackfoot chief,
Whose home is three days' journey north. In brief,
My brother is a hunter. I am here
To keep his lodge, while he pursues the deer."
"Then I will leave you," he replies, "and when
Your brother comes, I shall return again!"
Thus saying, takes his leave; but, ere he goes,
One longing, lingering, backward glance he throws,
Which tells the maid how straight her arrow sped
To pierce the heart of him she else must dread.

(DAKOTA LOVE SONG.)

_My heart is heavy--my heart is sore--
I heard you were going away!
I wept all night--I wept all day