n
Their scalps Ojibway spears adorn.
Why have you kept us waiting here?
Behold, the sun will soon appear,
The hour is late, the good time flies,
And vengeance still unsated cries!
Come," growled the brute, and clutched her wrist,
And gave it rough and cruel twist;
"Come, lead us now, with noiseless creep,
To where thy Sioux dogs lie in sleep."
Like thunderbolt from storm-filled air,
The young brave sprang upon Two Bear;
With mighty grasp he whirled him 'round
And threw him fiercely to the ground.
"Dog thou," he cried; "and darest thou pain
This beauty with thy paws again
I'll kill thee, ponderous as thou art!"
Black with the fury in his heart,
The bully rose, and toward the young
And fearless champion wildly flung
His tomahawk, which, lightly dodged,
Swung through the hissing air and lodged
Deep in the nearest cottonwood.
Brief were the moments while they stood
And glared into each other's eyes.
Then forward leaped, with fearful cries,
And joined in combat, hand to hand.
With whirlwind sweep their knives outflashed,
And lightning followed when they clashed.
The maiden stood in dumb surprise,
All heedless of the warrior band;
Too anxious for her lover's fate
To think upon his present state,
Or care what stir she might create.
Sternly the conflict raged. At length,
Although he fought with giant strength,
The youthful brave was overpowered.
He fell; a crushing knee was pressed
Upon his form, his foeman towered
A moment o'er him, then his breast
Received the cruel, plunging knife.
The crimson flood gushed forth; a thrill
Of anguish swept his features o'er;
The light departed; mortal strife
Would stir the living pulse no more
Within that ghastly form so still!
Her lover's awful death awoke
The maiden from her flight-born trance.
She flashed around one fearful glance--
The peril of her people broke
Upon her mind; she must be brave,
For she alone could hope to save.
She saw with horror and alarm
Two Bear approach herself to claim
As prize for his victorious arm;
His wicked face was all aflame.
'Twas worse than death for her to stay,
And she must warn those far away.
No time was her's for useless grief.
She turned, and like a storm-chased leaf,
Fled swiftly toward the river bank.
Alas! A dozen leaps were all.
The murderous tomahawk was thrown
And cleft her brain. With one low moan,
Upon her green death-bed she sank.
But simultaneous with her fall
A wild Dahkotah war-whoop rang
From out the forest,