‘The white man comes,’ the scouts report, ‘our hunting here is done,
The white man comes and we must go, on towards the setting sun.’
“As night comes on and in the west the sun sets for the day,
Full slowly up the valley an ox-team weaves its way.
It draws a covered wagon. On the driver’s seat a man,
His head turned back, is speaking to a woman in the van;
‘Look, Mary, there’s a likely spot in yonder grove of trees,
There’s water, fuel, fish, and game; the grass comes to my knees;
The land is fertile, level, smooth—what need to farther roam?
Come let us halt in this fair place and build ourselves a home.’