At last it moves—that swinging oval door—
At last she steps upon the prairie floor,
Shading her dark eyes from the dazzling ray—
A dusky princess, lovelier than the day!
No matron, to her hidden foeman's sight,
Has ever seemed so radiantly bright.
Her dress is rich, in style unlike the Sioux.
(These belles in doe-skin have their fashions, too!)
On either shoulder lies a jetty braid;
Her slender form, most delicately made,
Her deep, black eyes and winsome features miss
Naught of proportion. What a conquest this!
To such an enemy who would not bow?
Truly our warrior is a captive now!
Vainly she gazes—turns and disappears,
His beating heart our youthful hero hears!
Rashly he thinks to follow and surprise
This charming stranger—carry off the prize
Before her lord's return. By impulse led,
To the low door he stoops his stately head,
Flings a last hurried glance to left and right,
Then enters, and beholds this beauty bright
Seated upon a pile of costly skins,
Embroidering her hunter's moccasins!
He stands abashed—she glances up to greet
His hasty entrance with a smile so sweet,
Then drops her lashes with such coquetry.
Amazed, he thinks, "No mortal woman she, Who does not fear a stranger entering so!
Rather some teasing fairy, or a doe
In woman's form."
Abruptly he exclaims
"What are you—a Dakota?" As he names
That warlike tribe, at last she starts, and shakes
Her head; then with her slender fingers makes,
Slowly, the signs all tribes of Indians know—
"I do not speak your language."
"Is it so?
Where is your husband?" asks our hero young,
In this same silent, yet most graphic tongue.
"I am the daughter of a Blackfoot chief,
Whose home is three days' journey north. In brief,
My brother is a hunter. I am here
To keep his lodge, while he pursues the deer."
"Then I will leave you," he replies, "and when
Your brother comes, I shall return again!"
Thus saying, takes his leave; but, ere he goes,
One longing, lingering, backward glance he throws,
Which tells the maid how straight her arrow sped
To pierce the heart of him she else must dread.
(DAKOTA LOVE SONG.)
My heart is heavy—my heart is sore—
I heard you were going away!
I wept all night—I wept all day—
I wept till I could weep no more
When I heard you were going away
Far, far away!
O my heart! O my poor heart!
Heh-eh-eh-eh! Ho-o-o!
Concealing in the grass his eagle plumes,
The patient Sioux his lonely watch resumes.
The reddening sun is low, when, far away,
He sees a moving speck. With its last ray
A handsome youth dismounts before the door.
His sister, as the custom was of yore,
Removes the body of the doe with speed,
Unsaddles, waters, pickets out his steed,
Leaving the wearied hunter to repose.
A film of smoke, dissolving as it goes,
Curls upward from the Blackfoot's lodge.
At last,
The youthful pair have ended their repast,
And reappear without, to taste the cool
Of evening. All their sportive converse, full
Of meaning gestures, doth right well supply
Its story to their unseen watcher's eye,
Who through the night his tireless vigil keeps,
While, wrapt in dreams, the unconscious Blackfoot sleeps.
At earliest dawn, in the chill morning gray,
Again the youthful hunter rides away;
And, when the sun mounts half way up the sky,
Her lover meets the Blackfoot maiden's eye.
Archly she greets him—"Laggard! why so late?
He whom you seek is gone—he could not wait!"
"But you—you told him not," the youth replies,
"Of my first visit!" In each other's eyes
They look and laugh; and in that laughter free
Dissolves the ancient, tribal enmity! The wooing of an Indian is but brief.
He tells his tale, "My father was a chief—
These eighteen years in yonder heaven he dwells."
The maiden's heart with awe and wonder swells
On hearing that mysterious name and birth
Which mark him as a being scarce of earth.
Then, too, his gallant height and handsome face,
Equipment strange, and bearing full of grace
Ensnare her fancy.
When the bold demand
Comes from this hero for her heart and hand,
In blush and smile her answer may be guessed;
Yet, womanlike, she puts him to the test!
"Ere I consent, you must return with me
Unto my father's lodge. And first—but see
This raw-hide trunk. I pray you, creep inside—"
(All this by signs); "then you can safely hide!
I dread my brother's anger, when he hears
Our foeman asks me for a wife."