She turned to the chief with her frantic cries:
"Wakawa--my Father; he lies!--he lies!
Wiwaste is pure as the faun unborn;
Lead me back to the feast, or Wiwaste dies!"
But the warriors uttered a cry of scorn,
And he turned his face from her pleading eyes.

Then the sullen warrior, the tall Red Cloud,
Looked up and spoke and his voice was loud;
But he held his wrath and spoke with care:
"Wiwaste is young, she is proud and fair,
But she may not boast of the virgin snows.
The Virgins Feast is a Sacred thing:
How durst she enter the Virgins ring?
The warrior would fain, but he dares not spare;
She is tarnished and only the Red Cloud knows."

She clutched her hair in her clenched hand:
She stood like statue bronzed and grand:
Wakan-dee [39] flashed in her fiery eyes;
Then, swift as the meteor cleaves the skies--
Nay, swift as the fiery Wakinyan's dart, [32]
She snatch the knife from the warriors belt,
And plunged it clean to the polished hilt--
With deadly cry--in the villain's heart.
Staggering he clutched the air and fell;
His life-blood smoked on the trampled sand,
And dripped from the knife in the virgin's hand.
Then rose his kinsmen's savage yell.
Swift as the doe's Wiwaste's feet