The camp was instantly thrown into
mourning. Many were in heavy grief, but none
was more deeply stricken than the maiden called
the Blue Sky, the daughter of their chief.
She remained within her teepee and wept in
secret, for none knew that she had the right to
mourn. Yet she believed that her lover had
met with misfortune, but not death. Although
his name was announced among those warriors
who fell in the field, her own heart assured her
that it was not so. "I must go to him," she
said to herself. "I must know certainly whether
he is still among the living!"
The next evening, while the village was yet
in the confusion of great trouble and sorrow,
Blue Sky rode out upon her favorite pony as
if to take him to water as usual, but none saw
her return! She hastened to the spot where
she had concealed two sacks of provisions and
her extra moccasins and materials for sewing.
She had no weapon, save her knife and a small
hatchet. She knew the country between the
Black Hills and the Big Horn, and knew that
it was full of perils for man and much more for
woman.
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