As they rode on the winds in the frosty air;
But she heard the voice of her hunter fair;
For a shadowy spirit with fairy fingers
The curtains drew from the land of dreams;
And lo in her teepee her lover lingers;
The light of love in his dark eye beams,
And his voice is the music of mountain streams.

And then with her round, brown arms she pressed
His phantom form to her throbbing breast,
And whispered the name, in her happy sleep,
Of her Hohe hunter so fair and far.
And then she saw in her dreams the deep
Where the spirit wailed, and a falling star;
Then stealthily crouching under the trees,
By the light of the moon, the Kan-o-ti-dan, [31]
The little, wizened, mysterious man,
With his long locks tossed by the moaning breeze.
Then a flap of wings, like a thunder-bird, [32]
And a wailing spirit the sleeper heard;
And lo, through the mists of the moon, she saw
The hateful visage of Harpstina.

But waking she murmured--"And what are these--
The flap of wings and the falling star,
The wailing spirit that's never at ease,
The little man crouching under the trees,
And the hateful visage of Harpstina?
My dreams are like feathers that float on the breeze,
And none can tell what the omens are--