Be-
ing a woman, her sole means of recognition was
the "brave deed" which she so wonderfully
described and enacted before the people.
During the lifetime of She-whose-Voice-is-
heard-afar--and she died only a few years ago
--it behooved the Sioux men, if they drank at
all, to drink secretly and in moderation. There
are many who remember her brave entrance
upon the scene of carousal, and her dramatic
recital of the immortal deed of her youth.
"Hanta! hanta wo! (Out of the way!)"
exclaim the dismayed warriors, scrambling in
every direction to avoid the upraised arm of
the terrible old woman, who bursts suddenly
upon them with disheveled hair, her gown torn
and streaked here and there with what looks
like fresh blood, her leather leggins loose and
ungartered, as if newly come from the famous
struggle. One of the men has a keg of whisky
for which he has given a pony, and the others
have been invited in for a night of pleasure.
But scarcely has the first round been drunk to
the toast of "great deeds," when Eyatonkawee
is upon them, her great knife held high in her
wrinkled left hand, her tomahawk in the right.
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