To his friends like the red fawn's dappled form;
In peace, like the breeze from the summer seas----
In war, like the roar of the mountain storm.
His fame in the voice of the winds went forth
From his hunting grounds in the happy North,
And far as the shores of the _Great Medè_ [36]
The nations spoke of the brave Chaskè.

Dark was the visage of grim Red Cloud,
Fierce were the eyes of the warrior proud,
When the chief to his lodge led the brave _Hóhè_,
And Wiwâstè smiled on the tall Chaskè.
Away he strode with a sullen frown,
And alone in his _teepee_ he sat him down.
From the gladsome greeting of braves he stole,
And wrapped himself in his gloomy soul.
But the eagle eyes of the Hârpstinà
The clouded face of the warrior saw.
Softly she spoke to the sullen brave:
"Mah-pí-ya Dúta--his face is sad;
And why is the warrior so glum and grave?
For the fair Wiwâstè is gay and glad;
She will sit in the _teepee_ the live-long day,
And laugh with her lover--the brave _Hóhè_
Does the tall Red Cloud for the false one sigh?
There are fairer maidens than she, and proud
Were their hearts to be loved by the brave Red Cloud.
And trust not the chief with the smiling eyes;
His tongue is swift, but his words are lies;
And the proud Mah-pí-ya will surely find