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For awhile there was silence; then from the gates of the women's quarters came a band of maidens arrayed in their beaded dancing-dresses, and carrying green branches in their hands. As they came, they clapped their hands and sang softly: We are the heralds of the king's feast. Ai! Ai! Vultures shall eat it. Ah! Ah! It is good it is good to die for the king!
Just outside of a fine large wigwam of smoke-tanned buffalo-skins stood Tawasuota, very early upon an August morning of the year 1862. Behind the wigwam there might have been seen a thrifty patch of growing maize, whose tall, graceful stalks resembled as many warriors in dancing-dresses and tasseled head-gear. "Thanks be to the 'Great Mystery, I have been successful in the fortunes of war!
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