You should not have believed his words, until he took you to his wigwam. But do not be afraid that I will marry the Deer-killer. There was never but one woman among the Dahcotahs who did not marry, and I am going to be the second." "You had better hush, Wanska," said the Bright Star. "You know she had her nose cut off because she refused to be a wife, and somebody may cut yours off too.

I am going far away, and the man who has broken his faith to the maiden who trusted him, will never be a good husband." "If I were Wenona, and you married the Deer-killer," said the Bright Star to Wanska, "you should not live long after it. She is a coward or she would not let you laugh at her as you did.

By and by they separated, when he followed Wanska to her father's teepee. Her mother and father had gone to dispose of game in exchange for bread and flour, and the Deer-killer seated himself uninvited on the floor of the lodge. "The teepee of the warrior is lonely when he returns from hunting," said he to the maiden. "Wanska must come to the lodge of the Deer-killer.

They might have noticed, however, that Wenona's face was pale, and her eyes red with weeping. She was idle too, while the others plaited busily, and there was a subdued look of sadness about her countenance, contrasting strangely with the merry faces of the others. "Why did you not tell Shah-co-pee what we were laughing at, Wenona?" said Wanska. "Your secret is known now.

And who would have thought that care was known to Wanska, with her merry laugh, and her never-ceasing jokes, whether played upon her young companions, or on the old medicine man who kept everybody but her in awe of him. She seemed to be everywhere too, at the same time. Her canoe dances lightly over the St. Peter's, and her companions try in vain to keep up with her.

Little to Wenona were her father's reproaches, or her mother's curse; that she was no more beloved was all she remembered. Again was the Deer-killer by the side of Wanska, and she paid the penalty. Her husband brought other wives to his wigwam, though Wanska was ever the favorite one.

Promises come as readily to the lips of an Indian lover as trustfulness does to the heart of the woman who listens to them; and the Deer-killer was believed. Wanska had been often at the Fort, and she had seen the difference between the life of a white and that of an Indian woman. She had thought that the Great Spirit was unmindful of the cares of his children.

Wenona had not hoped in vain, for her lover was with her, and Wanska seemed to be forgotten. The warrior's flute would draw her out from her uncle's lodge while the moon rose o'er the cold waters. Wrapped in her blanket, she would hasten to meet him, and listen to his assurances of affection, wondering the while that she had ever feared he loved another.

When her mother places food before her she says, 'Will he bring the meat of the young deer for me to dress for him, and will my lodge be ever full of food, that I may offer it to the hungry and weary stranger who stops to rest himself? If I were in her place, Wanska," added the Bright Star, "I would try and be a medicine woman, and I would throw a spell upon the Deer-killer, and upon you too, if you married him."

Many women have loved the Deer-killer, but never has he cared to sit beside one, till he heard the voice of Wanska as she sang in the scalp-dance, and saw her bear the scalp of her enemy upon her shoulders." Wanska's face was pale while she listened to him. She approached him, and laid her small hand upon his arm "I have heard your words, and my heart says they are good.