Winona (ii)

When the meadow-lark trilled o'er the leas
and the oriole piped in the maples,
From my hammock, all under the trees,
by the sweet scented field of red-clover,
I harked to the hum of the bees,
as they gathered the mead of the blossoms,
And caught from their low melodies
the rhythm of the song of Winona.

(In pronouncing Dakota words give “a” the sound of
“ah,”-”e” the sound of “a,”-”i” the sound of “e”
and “u” the sound of “oo.” Sound “ee” the same as in
English.).

Two hundred white Winters and more
have fled from the face of the Summer,
Since here on the oak shaded shore
of the dark winding swift Mississippi,
Where his foaming floods tumble and roar,
on the falls and white rolling rapids,
In the fair, fabled center of Earth,
sat the Indian town of Ka-tha-ga.
Far rolling away to the north, and the south,
lay the emerald prairies,
Alternate with woodlands and lakes,
and above them the blue vast of ether.
And here where the dark river breaks into spray
and the roar of the Ha-Ha,
Were gathered the bison-skin tees
of the chief tawny tribe of Dakotas;
For here, in the blast and the breeze,
flew the flag of the chief of Isantees,
Up-raised on the stem of a lance
-the feathery flag of the eagle.
And here to the feast and the dance,
from the prairies remote and the forests,
Oft gathered the out-lying bands,
and honored the gods of the nation.
On the islands and murmuring strands
they danced to the god of the waters,
Unktehee, who dwelt in the caves
deep under the flood of the Ha-Ha;
And high o'er the eddies and waves
hung their offerings of fur and tobacco. [a]
And here to the Master of life
-Anpe-tu-wee, god of the heavens,
Chief, warrior, and maiden, and wife,
burned the sacred green sprigs of the cedar.
And here to the Searcher-of-hearts
-fierce Ta-ku Skan-skan, the avenger,
Who dwells in the uttermost parts
-in the earth and the blue, starry ether,
Ever watching, with all-seeing eyes,
the deeds of the wives and the warriors,
As an osprey afar in the skies,
sees the fish as they swim in the waters,
Oft spread they the bison-tongue feast,
and singing preferred their petitions,
Till the Day-Spirit rose in the East
-in the red, rosy robes of the morning,
To sail o'er the sea of the skies,
to his lodge in the land of the shadows,
Where the black winged tornadoes [b] arise
-rushing loud from the mouths of their caverns.
And here with a shudder they heard,
flying far from his tee in the mountains,
Wa-kin-yan, the huge Thunder-Bird,
-with the arrows of fire in his talons.

[a] See Hennepin's Description of Louisiana by Shea pp 243 and
256. Parkman's Discovery p. 246-and Carver's Travels, p. 67
[b] The Dakotas like the ancient Romans and Greeks think the home
of the winds is in the caverns of the mountains, and their great Thunder
bird resembles in many respects the Jupiter of the Romans and the Zeus
of the Greeks. The resemblance of the Dakota mythology to that of the
older Greeks and Romans is striking.

Two hundred white Winters and more
have fled from the face of the Summer,
Since here by the cataract's roar,
in the moon of the red blooming lilies,
In the tee of Ta-te-psin [a] was born Winona
-wild-rose of the prairies.
Like the summer sun peeping, at morn,
o'er the hills was the face of Winona;
And here she grew up like a queen
-a romping and lily-lipped laughter,
And danced on the undulant green,
and played in the frolicsome waters,
Where the foaming tide tumbles and twirls
o'er the murmuring rocks in the rapids;
And whiter than foam were the pearls
that gleamed in the midst of her laughter.
Long and dark was her flowing hair flung,
like the robe of the night to the breezes;
And gay as the robin she sung,
or the gold-breasted lark of the meadows.
Like the wings of the wind were her feet,
and as sure as the feet of Ta-to-ka; [b]
And oft like an antelope fleet
o'er the hills and the prairies she bounded,
Lightly laughing in sport as she ran,
and looking back over her shoulder,
At the fleet footed maiden or man,
that vainly her flying steps followed.
The belle of the village was she,
and the pride of the aged Ta-te-psin,
Like a sunbeam she lighted his tee,
and gladdened the heart of her father.

[a] Ta te-Wind, Psin-Wild Rice,-wild rice wind.
[b] The Mountain Antelope.

In the golden hued Wazu-pe-wee
-the moon when the wild rice is gathered;
When the leaves on the tall sugar-tree
are as red as the breast of the robin,
And the red-oaks that border the lea
are aflame with the fire of the sunset,
From the wide waving fields of wild-rice
-from the meadows of Psin-ta-wak-pa-dan, [a]
Where the geese and the mallards rejoice,
and grow fat on the bountiful harvest,
Came the hunters with saddles of moose
and the flesh of the bear and the bison,
And the women in birchen canoes
well laden with rice from the meadows,
With the tall, dusky hunters, behold,
came a marvelous man or a spirit,
White-faced and so wrinkled and old,
and clad in the robe of the raven.
Unsteady his steps were and slow,
and he walked with a staff in his right hand,
And white as the first-falling snow
were the thin locks that lay on his shoulders.
Like rime-covered moss hung his beard,
flowing down from his face to his girdle;
And wan was his aspect and weird;
and often he chanted and mumbled
In a strange and mysterious tongue,
as he bent o'er his book in devotion.
Or lifted his dim eyes and sung,
in a low voice, the solemn “Te Deum.”
Or Latin, or Hebrew, or Greek
-all the same were his words to the warriors,-
All the same to the maids
and the meek, wide-wondering-eyed, hazel-brown children.

[a] Little Rice River. It bears the name of Rice Creek to-day
and empties into the Mississippi from the east, a few miles above
Minneapolis.

Father Rene Menard [a]-it was he,
long lost to his Jesuit brothers,
Sent forth by an holy decree
to carry the Cross to the heathen.
In his old age abandoned to die,
in the swamps, by his timid companions,
He prayed to the Virgin on high,
and she led him forth from the forest;
For angels she sent him as men
-in the forms of the tawny Dakotas,
And they led his feet from the fen,
-from the slough of despond and the desert.
Half-dead in a dismal morass,
as they followed the red-deer they found him,
In the midst of the mire and the grass,
and mumbling “Te Deum laudamus.”
“Unktomee -Ho!” muttered the braves,
for they deemed him the black Spider-Spirit
That dwells in the drearisome caves,
and walks on the marshes at midnight,
With a flickering torch in his hand,
to decoy to his den the unwary.
His tongue could they not understand,
but his torn hands all shriveled with famine,
He stretched to the hunters and said:
“He feedeth his chosen with manna;
And ye are the angels of God,
sent to save me from death in the desert.”
His famished and woe-begone face,
and his tones touched the hearts of the hunters;
They fed the poor father apace,
and they led him away to Ka-tha-ga.

[a] See the account of Father Menard, his mission and disappearance in the
wilderness, etc. Neill's Hist. Minnesota, pp 104 to 107 inc.

There little by little he learned
the tongue of the tawny Dakotas;
And the heart of the good father yearned
to lead them away from their idols-
Their giants and dread Thunder-birds
-their worship of stones and the devil.
“Wakan-de!” [a] they answered his words,
for he read from his book in the Latin,
Lest the Nazarene's holy commands
by his tongue should be marred in translation;
And oft with his beads in his hands,
or the cross and the crucified Jesus,
He knelt by himself on the sands,
and his dim eyes uplifted to heaven.
But the braves bade him look to the East
-to the silvery lodge of Han-nan-na; [b]
And to dance with the chiefs at the feast
-at the feast of the Giant Heyo-ka.
They frowned when the good father
spurned the flesh of the dog in the kettle,
And laughed when his fingers were burned
in the hot, boiling pot of the giant.
“The Blackrobe” they called the poor priest,
from the hue of his robe and his girdle;
And never a game or a feast
but the father must grace with his presence.
His prayer book the hunters revered,
-they deemed it a marvelous spirit;
It spoke and the white father heard,
-it interpreted visions and omens.
And often they bade him
to pray this marvelous spirit to answer,
And tell where the sly Chippeway might be ambushed
and slain in his forests.
For Menard was the first in the land,
proclaiming, like John in the desert-
“The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand;
repent ye, and turn from your idols.”-
The first of the brave brotherhood that,
threading the fens and the forest,
Stood afar by the turbulent flood
at the falls of the Father of Waters.

[a] It is wonderful.
[b] The morning.

In the lodge of the Stranger [a]
he sat awaiting the crown of a martyr;
His sad face compassion begat
in the heart of the dark eyed Winona.
Oft she came to the teepee and spoke;
she brought him the tongue of the bison,
Sweet nuts from the hazel and oak,
and flesh of the fawn and the mallard.
Soft hanpa [b] she made for his feet
and leggins of velvety fawn-skin,-
A blanket of beaver complete,
and a hood of the hide of the otter.
And oft at his feet on the mat,
deftly braiding the flags and the rushes,
Till the sun sought his teepee she sat,
enchanted with what he related
Of the white winged ships on the sea
and the teepees far over the ocean,
Of the love and the sweet charity of the Christ
and the beautiful Virgin.

[a] A lodge set apart for guests of the village.
[b] Moccasins.

She listened like one in a trance
when he spoke of the brave, bearded Frenchmen,
From the green sun-lit valleys of France
to the wild Hochelaga [a] transplanted,
Oft trailing the deserts of snow
in the heart of the dense Huron forests,
Or steering the dauntless canoe
through the waves of the fresh water ocean.
“Yea, stronger and braver are they,”
said the aged Menard to Winona,
“Than the head-chief, tall Wazi-kute,
but their words are as soft as a maiden's;
Their eyes are the eyes of the swan,
but their hearts are the hearts of the eagles;
And the terrible Maza Wakan [b] ever walks,
by their side like a spirit.
Like a Thunder-bird, roaring in wrath,
flinging fire from his terrible talons,
It sends to their enemies death,
in the flash of the fatal Wakandee.” [c]

[a] The Ottawa name for the region of the St. Lawrence River.
[b] “Mysterious metal”-or metal having a spirit in it. This is the
common name applied by the Dakotas to all fire arms.
[c] Lightning.

The Autumn was past and the snow
lay drifted and deep on the prairies;
From his teepee of ice came the foe
-came the storm-breathing god of the winter.
Then roared in the groves,-on the plains,
-on the ice-covered lakes and the river-
The blasts of the fierce hurricanes
blown abroad from the breast of Waziya.
The bear cuddled down in his den,
and the elk fled away to the forest;
The pheasant and gray prairie-hen
made their beds in the heart of the snow-drift;
The bison-herds huddled and stood
in the hollows and under the hill-sides;
Or rooted the snow for their food
in the lee of the bluffs and the timber;
And the mad winds that howled from the north,
from the ice-covered seas of Waziya,
Chased the gray wolf and red fox and swarth
to their dens in the hills of the forest.

Poor Father Menard,-he was ill;
in his breast burned the fire of the fever;
All in vain was the magical skill
of Wicasta Wakan with his rattle;
Into soft child-like slumber he fell,
and awoke in the land of the blessed-
To the holy applause of “Well done!”
and the harps in the hands of the angels.
Long he carried the cross,
and he won the coveted crown of a martyr.

In the land of the heathen he died,
meekly following the voice of his Master,
One mourner alone by his side
-Ta-te-psin's compassionate daughter.
She wailed the dead father with tears,
and his bones by her kindred she buried.
Then winter followed winter.
The years sprinkled frost on the head of her father;
And three weary winters she dreamed
of the fearless and fair-bearded Frenchmen;
In her sweet sleep their swift paddles gleamed
on the breast of the broad Mississippi,
And the eyes of the brave strangers beamed
on the maid in the midst of her slumber.

She lacked not admirers;
the light of the lover oft burned in her teepee-
At her couch in the midst of the night,
-but she never extinguished the flambeau.
The son of Chief Wazi-kute
-a fearless and eagle plumed warrior-
Long sighed for Winona, and he
-was the pride of the band of Isantees.
Three times, in the night, at her bed,
had the brave held the torch of the lover, And thrice had she
covered her head
and rejected the handsome Tamdoka. [a]

[a] Tah-mdo-kah-literally the buck deer.

'Twas Summer. The merry voiced birds
trilled and warbled in woodland and meadow;
And abroad on the prairies the herds
cropped the grass in the land of the lilies,-
And sweet was the odor of rose
wide-wafted from hillside and heather;
In the leaf-shaded lap of repose
lay the bright, blue eyed babes of the summer;
And low was the murmur of brooks
and low was the laugh of the Ha-Ha;
And asleep in the eddies and nooks
lay the broods of maga and the mallard.
'Twas the moon of Wasunpa.
The band lay at rest in the tees at Ka-tha-ga,
And abroad o'er the beautiful land
walked the spirits of Peace and of Plenty-
Twin sisters, with bountiful hand,
wide scatt'ring wild rice and the lilies.
An-pe-tu-wee walked in the west
-to his lodge in the midst of the mountains,
And the war eagle flew to her nest
in the oak on the Isle of the Spirit. [a]
And now at the end of the day,
by the shore of the Beautiful Island, [b]
A score of fair maidens and gay
made joy in the midst of the waters.
Half-robed in their dark, flowing hair,
and limbed like the fair Aphrodite,
They played in the waters,
and there they dived and they swam like the beavers,-
Loud-laughing like loons on the lake
when the moon is a round shield of silver,
And the songs of the whippowils
wake on the shore in the midst of the maples.

[a] The Dakotas say that for many years in olden times a war-eagle
made her nest in an oak tree on Spirit island-Wanagi-wita just below the
Falls till frightened away by the advent of white men.
[b] The Dakotas called Nicollet Island “Wi-ta Waste”-the Beautiful Island.

But hark!-on the river a song,
-strange voices commingled in chorus;
On the current a boat swept along
with DuLuth and his hardy companions;
To the stroke of their paddles they sung,
and this the refrain that they chanted:

“Dans mon chemin j'ai recontre
Deux cavaliers bien montees.
Lon, lon, laridon daine,
Lon, lon, laridon dai.”

“Deux cavaliers bien montees;
L'un a cheval, et l'autre a pied.
Lon, lon, laridon daine,
Lon, lon, laridon dai.” [a]

Like the red, dappled deer in the glade,
alarmed by the footsteps of hunters,
Discovered, disordered, dismayed,
the nude nymphs fled forth from the waters,
And scampered away to the shade,
and peered from the screen of the lindens.

[a] A part of one of the favorite songs of the French voyageurs.

A bold and and adventuresome man was DuLuth,
and a dauntless in danger,
And straight to Kathaga he ran,
and boldly advanced to the warriors,
Now gathering, a cloud, on the strand,
and gazing amazed on the strangers;
And straightway he offered his hand
unto Wazi-kute, the Itancan.
To the Lodge of the Stranger were led
DuLuth and his hardy companions;
Robes of beaver and bison were spread,
and the Peace pipe was smoked with the Frenchman.

There was dancing and feasting at night,
and joy at the presents he lavished.
All the maidens were wild with delight
with the flaming red robes and the ribbons,
With the beads and the trinkets untold,
and the fair, bearded face of the giver;
And glad were they all to behold the friends
from the Land of the Sunrise.
But one stood apart from the rest
-the queenly and peerless Winona,
Intently regarding the guest
-hardly heeding the robes and the ribbons,
Whom the White Chief beholding admired,
and straightway he spread on her shoulders
A lily-red robe and attired,
with necklet and ribbons, the maiden.
The red lilies bloomed in her face,
and her glad eyes gave thanks to the giver,
And forth from her teepee apace
she brought him the robe and the missal
Of the father-poor Rene Menard;
and related the tale of the “Black Robe.”
She spoke of the sacred regard
he inspired in the hearts of Dakotas;
That she buried his bones with her kin,
in the mound by the Cave of the Council;
That she treasured and wrapt
in the skin of the red-deer his robe and his prayer-book-
“Till his brothers should come from the East
-from the land of the far Hochelaga,
To smoke with the braves at the feast,
on the shores of the Loud-laughing Waters.
For the “Black Robe” spake much of his youth
and his friends in the Land of the Sunrise;
It was then as a dream, now in truth,
I behold them, and not in a vision.”
But more spake her blushes, I ween,
and her eyes full of language unspoken,
As she turned with the grace of a queen,
and carried her gifts to the teepee.

Far away from his beautiful France
-from his home in the city of Lyons,
A noble youth full of romance,
with a Norman heart big with adventure,
In the new world a wanderer, by chance,
DuLuth sought the wild Huron forests.
But afar by the vale of the Rhone,
the winding and musical river,
And the vine-covered hills of the Saone,
the heart of the wanderer lingered,-
'Mid the vineyards and mulberry trees,
and the fair fields of corn and of clover
That rippled and waved in the breeze,
while the honey-bees hummed in the blossoms
For there, where the impetuous Rhone,
leaping down from the Switzerland mountains,
And the silver-lipped soft flowing Saone,
meeting, kiss and commingle together,
Down-winding by vineyards and leas,
by the orchards of fig trees and olives,
To the island-gemmed, sapphire-blue seas
of the glorious Greeks and the Romans;
Aye, there, on the vine covered shore,
'mid the mulberry trees and the olives,
Dwelt his blue-eyed and beautiful Flore,
with her hair like a wheat field at harvest,
All rippled and tossed by the breeze,
and her cheeks like the glow of the morning,
Far away o'er the emerald seas,
ere the sun lifts his brow from the billows,
Or the red-clover fields when the bees,
singing sip the sweet cups of the blossoms.
Wherever he wandered
-alone in the heart of the wild Huron forests,
Or cruising the rivers unknown
to the land of the Crees or Dakotas-
His heart lingered still on the Rhone,
'mid the mulberry-trees and the vineyards,
Fast-fettered and bound by the zone
that girdled the robes of his darling.

Till the red Harvest Moon
he remained in the vale of the swift Mississippi.
The esteem of the warriors he gained,
and the love of the dark eyed Winona.
He joined in the sports and the chase;
with the hunters he followed the bison,
And swift were his feet in the race
when the red elk they ran on the prairies.
At the Game of the Plum-stones he played
and he won from the skillfulest players;
A feast to Wa'tanka he made,
and he danced at the feast of Heyoka.
With the flash and the roar of his gun
he astonished the fearless Dakotas;
They called it the “Maza Wakan”
-the mighty, mysterious metal.
“'Tis a brother,” they said,
“of the fire in the talons of dreadful Wakinyan,
When he flaps his huge wings in his ire,
and shoots his red shafts at Unktehee.”

The Itancan, tall Wazi-kute,
appointed a day for the races.
From the red stake that stood by his tee,
on the southerly side of the Ha-ha
To a stake at the Lake of the Loons
-a league and return-was the distance.
On the crest of the hills red batons
marked the course for the feet of the runners.
They gathered from near and afar,
to the races and dancing and feasting.
Five hundred tall warriors were there
from Kapoza and far off Keoza;
Remnica, [a] too, furnished a share
of the legions that thronged to the races,
And a bountiful feast was prepared
by the diligent hands of the women,
And gaily the multitudes fared
in the generous tees of Kathaga.
The chief of the mystical clan
appointed a feast to Unktehee-
The mystic “Wacipee Wakan” [b]-
at the end of the day and the races.
A band of sworn brothers are they,
and the secrets of each one are sacred.
And death to the lips that betray
is the doom of the swarthy avengers,
And the son of tall Wazi-kute
was the chief of the mystical order.

[a] Pronounced Ray mne chah-the village of the Mountains situate where
Red Wing now stands.
[b] Sacred Dance-The Medicine dance-See description infra.

On an arm of an oak hangs the prize
for the swiftest and strongest of runners-
A blanket as red as the skies,
when the flames sweep the plains in October.
And beside it a strong, polished bow,
and a quiver of iron tipped arrows,
Which Kapoza's tall chief will bestow
on the fleet-footed second that follows.
A score of swift-runners are there
from the several bands of the nation;
And now for the race they prepare,
and among them fleet-footed Tamdoka.
With the oil of the buck and the bear
their sinewy limbs are anointed,
For fleet are the feet of the deer
and strong are the limbs of the bruin,
And long is the course and severe
for the swiftest and strongest of runners.

Hark!-the shouts and the braying of drums,
and the Babel of tongues and confusion!
From his teepee the tall chieftain comes,
and Duluth brings a prize for the runners-
A keen hunting-knife from the Seine,
horn-handled and mounted with silver.
The runners are ranged on the plain,
and the Chief waves a flag as a signal,
And away like the gray wolves they fly
-like the wolves on the trail of the red deer;
O'er the hills and the prairie they vie,
and strain their strong limbs to the utmost,
While high on the hills hangs a cloud
of warriors and maidens and mothers,
To behold the swift runners,
and loud are the cheers and the shouts of the warriors.

Now swift from the lake they return,
o'er the emerald hills and the heather;
Like grey-hounds they pant and they yearn,
and the leader of all is Tamdoka.
At his heels flies Hu-pa-hu, [a] the fleet
-the pride of the band of Kaoza,
A warrior with eagle-winged feet,
but his prize is the bow and the quiver.
Tamdoka first reaches the post,
and his are the knife and the blanket,
By the mighty acclaim of the host
and award of the chief and the judges.
Then proud was the tall warrior's stride,
and haughty his look and demeanor;
He boasted aloud in his pride,
and he scoffed at the rest of the runners.
“Behold me, for I am a man! [b]
my feet are as swift as the West wind.
With the coons and the beavers I ran;
but where is the elk or the cabri?
Come!-where is the hunter will dare
match his feet with the feet of Tamdoka?
Let him think of Tate [c] and beware,
ere he stake his last robe on the trial.”
“Oho! Ho! Ho-heca!” [d] they jeered,
for they liked not the boast of the boaster;
But to match him no warrior appeared,
for his feet wore the wings of the west-wind.

[a] The wings.
[b] A favorite boast of the Dakota braves.
[c] The wind.
[d] About equivalent to Oho-Aha-fudge.

Then forth from the side of the chief
stepped DuLuth and he looked on the boaster;
“The words of a warrior are brief,
-I will run with the brave,” said the Frenchman;
“But the feet of Tamdoka are tired;
abide till the cool of the sunset.”
All the hunters and maidens admired,
for strong were the limbs of the stranger.
“Hiwo! Ho!” [a] they shouted
and loud rose the cheers of the multitude mingled;
And there in the midst of the crowd
stood the glad-eyed and blushing Winona.

[a] Hurra there!

Now afar o'er the plains of the west
walked the sun at the end of his journey,
And forth came the brave and the guest,
at the tap of the drum, for the trial.
Like a forest of larches the hordes
were gathered to witness the contest;
As loud is the drums were their words
and they roared like the roar of the Ha-ha.
For some for Tamdoka contend,
and some for the fair, bearded stranger,
And the betting runs high to the end,
with the skins of the bison and beaver.
A wife of tall Wazi-kute
-the mother of boastful Tamdoka-
Brought her handsomest robe from the tee,
with a vaunting and loud proclamation:
She would stake her last robe on her son who,
she boasted, was fleet as the Cabri
And the tall, tawny chieftain looked on,
approving the boast of the mother.
Then fleet as the feet of a fawn to her lodge
ran the dark eyed Winona,
She brought and she staked on the lawn,
by the side of the robe of the boaster,
The lily-red mantle Duluth, with his own hands,
had laid on her shoulders.
“Tamdoka is swift, but forsooth,
the tongue of his mother is swifter,”
She said, and her face was aflame
with the red of the rose and the lily,
And loud was the roar of acclaim;
but dark was the face of Tamdoka.

They strip for the race and prepare,
-DuLuth in his breeches and leggins;
And the brown, curling locks of his hair
downward droop to his bare, brawny shoulders,
And his face wears a smile debonair,
as he tightens his red sash around him;
But stripped to the moccasins bare,
save the belt and the breech-clout of buckskin,
Stands the haughty Tamdoka aware
that the eyes of the warriors admire him;
For his arms are the arms of a bear
and his legs are the legs of a panther.

The drum beats,-the chief waves the flag,
and away on the course speed the runners,
And away leads the brave like a stag,
-like a hound on his track flies the Frenchman;
And away haste the hunters, once more,
to the hills for a view to the lake-side,
And the dark-swarming hill-tops,
they roar with the storm of loud voices commingled.
Far away o'er the prairie they fly,
and still in the lead is Tamdoka,
But the feet of his rival are nigh,
and slowly he gains on the hunter.
Now they turn on the post at the lake,
-now they run full abreast on the home-stretch;
Side by side they contend for the stake,
for a long mile or more on the prairie.
They strain like a stag and a hound,
when the swift river gleams through the thicket,
And the horns of the rulers resound,
winding shrill through the depths of the forest.
But behold!-at full length on the ground
falls the fleet-footed Frenchman abruptly.
And away with a whoop and a bound,
springs the eager, exulting Tamdoka.
Long and loud on the hills
is the shout of his swarthy admirers and backers;
“But the race is not won till it's out,”
said DuLuth, to himself as he gathered,
With a frown on his face,
for the foot of the wily Tamdoka had tripped him.
Far ahead ran the brave on the route,
and turning he boasted exultant.
Like spurs to the steed to DuLuth
were the jeers and the taunts of the boaster;
Indignant was he and red wroth,
at the trick of the runner dishonest;
And away like a whirlwind he speeds
-like a hurricane mad from the mountains;
He gains on Tamdoka,-he leads!
-and behold, with the spring of a panther,
He leaps to the goal and succeeds,
'mid the roar of the mad acclamation.

Then glad as the robin in May
was the voice of Winona exulting;
And the crest-fallen brave turned away,
and lonely he walked by the river;
He glowered as he went
and the fire of revenge in his bosom was kindled,
But he strove to dissemble his ire,
and he whistled alone by the Ha-ha.