As she turned to Wakawa, the chief, and said:--
"The game was mine were it fairly played.
I was stunned by a blow on my bended head,
As I snatched the ball from slippery ground
Not half a fling from Wiwaste's bound.
And the cheat--behold her! for there she stands
With the prize that is mine in her treacherous hands.
The fawn may fly, but the wolf is fleet;
The fox creeps sly on Maga's [10] retreat;
And a woman's revenge--it is swift and sweet."
She turned to her lodge, but a roar of laughter
And merry mockery followed after.
Little they heeded the words she said,
Little they cared for her haughty tread,
For maidens and warriors and chieftain knew
That her lips were false and her charge untrue.

Wiwaste, the fairest Dakota maiden,
The sweet-faced daughter of Little Crow,
To her teepee [11] turned with her trophy laden--
The black robe trailing the virgin snow.
Beloved was she by her princely father,
Beloved was she by the young and old,
By merry maidens and many a mother,
And many a warrior bronzed and bold.
For her face was as fair as a beautiful dream,
And her voice like the song of the mountain stream;
And her eyes like the stars when they glow and gleam.
Through the somber pines of the nor'land wold,
When the winds of winter are keen and cold.