to the thought of him, whose palm
It touched a brilliant speaking tongue;
Resumed his honored place the tribe
Among.

Then stranger far, than track
Of wayward bird, or swirling wind,
Was Janishkisgan's forward course.
A maid of plebeian birth, she did
Not ask the leave of public speech--
A right to woman not allowed--
But from her people, where she sat,
With meekness due, stepped out and grasped
The staff Guteba had released,
Thus arrogating to herself
The right of oracle.

She said:
"I was thy dead chief's handmaid, Friends.
Twelve months agone, I was with him
Upon the battle-field alone.
The Sioux were all around us; their
Faces war-red painted; their cries
Of vengeance filling all the air.
He to his saddle caught me up.
The Great Spirit strengthened his arm;
The lightning whet his ax; the wind
Speeded his pony's hoofs. Through walls
Of human blood he cut our way,
And on his tomb no single scalp
The deed remarks, or notes the slain
He left to whiten bones upon
The plains. He saved my life. What can
I better do with it than use
It for him? Arrows ready make;
Gather the grass and grain with which
To feed the golden horns; prepare
The fuel for the sacred fires
And I will light and keep them bright
Upon the tombs. From my lips
Speaks Gezha Manitou. I have done."

Upon the silence which her words
Produced, the night-hawk's startling cry
Succeeded, and, round and round, above
Her head a milk-white falcon soared,
Now sailing high, now skimming low,
As if some mystic orison
In exultation it performed.

Symbolic bird! Thy course no chance
Directed. Talismanic art
Thou held by this nomadic tribe:
For, when the First Wacumic ruled
The band, from all the hosts of field
And feathery flock of heaven, thou wert
Elected Totem. Favored One!
Their fate forever linked to thine;
Thy image crested on their shields;
Thy every flight prophetic held!

Now, watch the trend of savage mind.
Even Chief Guteba, who loved
The Indian maid, knew that the bird
A seal had put upon her, from which
Her accomplished task alone would
Freedom give; and drove his knife
Into the thickness of his thigh
Hilt deep, to ease his pain of heart
That one so young, so fair and so
Much loved withal, must need take thought
Of courage.

The Great Medicine
Confirmed the omen, in these words:
"Daughter, thou art chosen: go forth.
I give thee holy token, no
Woman ever wore before. It is
The