She watched his burly form till out of sight.
And then the Raven spoke in whispers low:
“Gray Cloud demands our daughter’s hand, and she
Unto his tipi very soon must go.”
Winona’s mother sought to make reply,
But something checked her in his tone or eye.
Again the Raven spoke, imperiously:
“Winona is of proper age to wed;
Her suitor suits me, let no more be said.”
Winona heard no more; a rising wave