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Then rising to go, the youth holds out a right hand. "Grasp my hand once firmly before I go, Hoye. Pray tell me, will you wait and watch for my return?" Tusee only nods assent, for mere words are vain. At early dawn the round camp-ground awakes into song. Men and women sing of bravery and of triumph.
"My child, in honor of your first dance your father must give a generous gift. His ponies are wild, and roam beyond the great hill. Pray, what has he fit to offer?" she questioned, the pair of puzzled eyes fixed upon her. "A pony from the herd, mother, a fleet-footed pony from the herd!" Tusee shouted with sudden inspiration.
His shrewd eyes softened with pleasure as he watched the easy movements of the small body dancing on the green before him. Tusee is taking her first dancing lesson. Her tightly-braided hair curves over both brown ears like a pair of crooked little horns which glisten in the summer sun.
Naught but an enemy's scalp-lock, plucked fresh with your own hand, will buy Tusee for your wife, Then he turned on his heel and stalked away." Tusee thrusts her work aside. With earnest eyes she scans her lover's face. "My father's heart is really kind. He would know if you are brave and true," murmured the daughter, who wished no ill-will between her two loved ones.
With a panther's tread and pace she climbs the high ridge beyond the low ravine. From thence she spies the enemy's camp-fires. Rooted to the barren bluff the slender woman's figure stands on the pinnacle of night, outlined against a starry sky. The cool night breeze wafts to her burning ear snatches of song and drum. With desperate hate she bites her teeth. Tusee beckons the stars to witness.
"Hähob!" exclaimed the mother, with a rising inflection, implying by the expletive that her child's buoyant spirit be not weighted with a denial. Quickly to the hard request the man replied, "How! I go if Tusee tells me so!" This delighted the little one, whose black eyes brimmed over with light. Standing in front of the strong man, she clapped her small, brown hands with joy.
At length the song drops into a closing cadence, and the little woman, clad in beaded deerskin, sits down beside the elder one. Like her mother, she sits upon her feet. In a brief moment the warrior repeats the last refrain. Again Tusee springs to her feet and dances to the swing of the few final measures.
However, he himself had chosen to stay in the warrior's family. "Hunha!" again ejaculated the warrior father. Then turning to his little daughter, he asked, "Tusee, do you hear that?" "Yes, father, and I am going to dance tonight!" With these words she bounded out of his arm and frolicked about in glee. Hereupon the proud mother's voice rang out in a chiding laugh.
The young man arouses himself from his stupor. His senses belie him. Before his wide-open eyes the old bent figure straightens into its youthful stature. Tusee herself is beside him. With a stroke upward and downward she severs the cruel cords with her sharp blade.
All having made the circuit, the singing war party gallops away southward. Astride their ponies laden with food and deerskins, brave elderly women follow after their warriors. Among the foremost rides a young woman in elaborately beaded buckskin dress. Proudly mounted, she curbs with the single rawhide loop a wild-eyed pony. It is Tusee on her father's warhorse.
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