The warrior who knows is bound to expose,
And lead her forth from the ring again.
And the word of the warrior is a sacred by law;
For the Virgins' Feast is a sacred thing.
Aside with the mothers sat Harpstina:
She durst not enter the virgins' ring.

Round and round to the merry song
The maidens dance in their gay attire.
While the loud "Ho-Ho's" of the tawny throng
Their flying feet and their song inspire.
They have finished the song and the sacred dance,
And hand in hand to the feast advance--
To the polished bowls of the golden maize,
And the sweet fawn meat in the polished trays.

Then up from his seat in the silent crowd
Rose the frowning, fierce-eyed, tall Red Cloud;
Swift was his stride as the panther's spring,
When he leaps on the fawn from his cavern lair;
Wiwaste he caught by her flowing hair,
And dragged her forth from the Sacred Ring.
She turned on the warrior. Her eyes flashed fire;
Her proud lips quivered with queenly ire;
Her hand to the Spirits she raised and said,
And her sun browned cheeks were aflame with red:
"I am pure!--I am pure as falling snow!
Great Taku-Skan-Skan [51] will testify!
And dares the tall coward to say me no?"
But the sullen warrior made no reply.