Suddenly a Sioux warrior, in trailing eagle-feather bonnet, and mounted on a beautiful spotted pony, dashed down the hillside toward us, waving his bow over his head; and from our side I saw Red Hand, gun in hand, riding to meet him.
As they drew near one another the Sioux swerved, and an arrow, like a little snake, came curving through the air. Red Hand’s pony stumbled and fell, the shaft in its throat; but Red Hand, leaping to the ground, raised his gun and fired. I saw the Sioux drop his bow and ride back clinging desperately to his pony’s mane. Red Hand put his hand to his mouth and I heard his yi-yi-yi-yi-yah,[23] the yell that a warrior made when he had wounded an enemy.
[23] yĭ yĭ yĭ yĭ yäh´
On the side toward our village other cries now arose, for the warriors were coming to our help. The Sioux fled. Our men pursued them, and at nightfall came back with one scalp.
All that night we danced the scalp dance. A big fire was built. Men and women painted their faces black and sang glad songs. Old women cried a-la-la-la-la![24] Young men danced, yelled and boasted of their deeds. All said that Red Hand was a brave young man and would become a great warrior.
[24] ä lä lä lä lä´
The next day I was coming from the watering place with my kettle. Just ahead of me walked Waving Corn, a handsome girl two years older than I. Red Hand passed by; shyly I looked up, thinking to see him smile at me.
He was smiling at Waving Corn.