bowl
before the fire, when the two young men entered.

The son hardly noticed his mother's greeting, as he invited his friend
to partake of the venison. After eating, he filled his pipe, smoked, and
offered it to the other. They seemed inclined to waste but little time
in talking, for the pipe was put by, and they were about to leave the
teepee, when the son's steps were arrested by his mother's asking him if
he were going out again on a hunt. "There is food enough," she added,
"and I thought you would remain at home and prepare to join in the dance
of the sun, which will be celebrated to-morrow. You promised me to do
so, and a Dahcotah values his word."

The young man hesitated, for he loved his mother, and he knew it would
grieve her to be told the expedition upon which he was going.

The eyes of his comrade flashed fire, and his lip curled scornfully, as
he turned towards the son of Harpstenah. "Are you afraid to tell your
mother the truth," he said, "or do you fear the 'long knives' [Footnote:
Officers and soldiers are called long knives among the Sioux, from their
wearing swords.] will carry you a prisoner to their fort? _I_ will tell
you where we are going," he added. "The Dahcotahs have bought us
whiskey, and we are going to meet them and help bring it up. And now
cry--you are a woman--but it is time for us to be gone."

The son lingered--he could not bear to see his mother's tears. He knew
the sorrows she had endured, he knew too (for she had often assured him)
that should harm come to him she would not survive it. The knife she
carried in her belt was ready to do its deadly work. She implored him to
stay, calling to his mind the deaths of his father and of his murdered
brothers; she bade him remember the tears they had shed together, and
the promises he had often made, never to add to the trials she
had endured.

It was all in vain; for his friend, impatient to be gone, laughed at him
for listening to the words of his mother. "Is not a woman a dog?" he
said. "Do you intend to stay all night to hear your mother talk? If so,
tell me, that I may seek another comrade--one who fears neither a white
man nor a woman."

This appeal had its effect, for the young men left the teepee together.
They were soon out of sight, while Harpstenah sat weeping, and swaying
her body to and fro, lamenting the hour she was born. "There is no
sorrow in the land of spirits," she cried; "oh! that I were dead!"

The party left th