Yet much the same beneath the outer rind,
She was, though all unskilled in bookish lore,
A sound, sweet woman to the very core.
Winona’s uncle, and step-father too,
Was all the father that she ever knew;
By the Absarakas[5] her own was slain
Before her memory could his face retain.
Two bitter years his widow mourned him dead,
And then his elder brother she had wed.
None loved Winona’s uncle; he was stern