The two old men talked the matter over fully, and at last a settlement was agreed upon. Running Deer accepted five horses and a gun as compensation, and Saotan and Asokoa were free to return once more and live in peace among their own people. The days which followed the return of the lovers were very happy ones. Love dwelt in the lodge that was made beautiful by Asokoa; she lived for Saotan and adorned his home with every ornament and device that love could suggest. On his part, Saotan loved her so supremely that he never brought another woman to his lodge to share his love or supplant her in his loving attentions.
A dark-eyed babe came to gladden their hearts, a beautiful boy who Asokoa said should grow up and be like his father. They rejoiced together in the possession of this treasure, and when a few months later the destroying angel came and snatched their darling from their arms they mourned together over their darkened home.
Saotan and Asokoa had dwelt in perfect happiness for three years when a war expedition was organized to go southward and retaliate upon their enemies for the depredations the tribe had suffered at their hands. Two of these young men had been killed, and the desire was to kill their enemies, that the young men's spirits might rest in the happy spirit land.
The war party had chosen Saotan as their leader, and he was obliged to bid Asokoa a reluctant farewell. The affectionate wife gazed long and sadly after his retreating form as he rode away over the plains. They were not going to wage open warfare, but secretly to return with scalps as compensation for the loss of some of their own young men, and Asokoa's heart was heavy with foreboding of evil.
At the expiration of two weeks the Indians in the camps looked for the return of Saotan and his party. Four weeks had gone and there were no tidings. Two young men were sent out to trace them and learn the cause of delay. Meanwhile the sole topic of conversation in the lodges was the long absence of Saotan. Various rumors were circulated, but the truth concerning their fate could not be learned. Small parties of Piegans, Blackfeet and Sarcees called at the camps, but none brought any tidings of the missing men.
After many days of anxious waiting, the search party returned. Long before they reached the camp the people descried them on the distant hills, riding slowly, and their horses appearing to be tired out. The people ran to meet them, the women anxious to hear what news they brought. They listened for the songs of exultation, but alas! heard only that wail of sorrow which strikes terror to the Indian woman's heart.
The chiefs gathered in one of the lodges to listen to the story of the young men. They had ridden five nights on their journey, searching carefully for any trace of Saotan and his men. Not an Indian was to be seen anywhere; the country appeared to be deserted, and they thought it would be wise to return. A short consultation was held, and as they walked their horses slowly they came to the bank of a small stream where they noticed a branch was broken from a tree overhanging the water. Searching more closely, they found marks of horses' feet, and following the tracks, they came upon a spot where it was evident a battle had been fought, for near at hand lay the skeletons of Saotan and his men. The Indians who had slain them had taken their scalp-locks, their arms and ornaments, and the buzzard, coyote and wolf had stripped the bones; but there were enough fragments of clothing scattered about to enable the young men to recognize that the remains were those of Saotan and the party who had gone out so full of hope and confidence so short a time before.
As the young men related their sorrowful tale, the chiefs' countenances betokened the direst anger, and while they muttered and plotted revenge, the women slipped away to carry the story of widowhood, pain and degradation to Asokoa. Overwhelmed with grief for her loss, the poor woman thought only that Saotan could never return to her again, and did not realize that the medicine-women were already on their way to perform the ceremonies of mourning for the dead.
These women laid their hands upon her, and in a few moments the long black hair that had been her glory fell in masses to the ground. Her neatly embroidered garments were then removed and the oldest and most worn substituted; then, laying the bereaved woman's hand on a block of wood, one of the medicine-women took a knife, and using a deer's-horn scraper as a hammer, severed one of the fingers at the first joint. Her legs were next denuded of the handsome leggings, and the flesh gashed with a knife from the knees to the feet. The blood clotted as it trickled down and was allowed to remain.
Asokoa submitted willingly to all these inflictions of pain and mutilation; it was the custom, and she felt that she was only doing as she should to prove the reality of her grief for the loss of her husband by enduring it all without a murmur. A few of the old women sat with her in the lodge as companions in her grief; then as the sun sank in the western sky, Asokoa wandered out over the prairie, weeping bitterly and uttering the wailing cry of bereavement, "Saotan, come back to me! Saotan, come back to me!" But no voice replied, as the wailing cadences floated on the evening air.