. .
Ah! he strikes beyond her--only the handle of the ax falls
heavily upon her tired shoulder!
Her ready knife finds his wicked heart,--
Down he falls at her feet!
"Now the din of war grows fainter and further.
The Sioux recover heart, and drive the enemy headlong from their lodges:
Your sister stands victorious over three!
"She takes her baby boy, and makes him count with his tiny
hands the first 'coup' on each dead hero;
Hence he wears the 'first feathers' while yet in his oaken cradle.
"The bravest of the whole Sioux nation have given the war-whoop
in your sister's honor, and have said:
'Tis Eyatonkawee who is not satisfied with downing
the mighty oaks with her ax--
She took the mighty Sacs and Foxes for trees,
and she felled them with a will!'"
In such fashion the old woman was wont to
chant her story, and not a warrior there could
tell one to surpass it! The custom was strong,
and there was not one to prevent her when she
struck open with a single blow of her ax the keg
of whisky, and the precious liquor trickled upon
the ground.
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