“Old John,” after a hearty stretch, joins them too, and now the fumes of the pipe ascend, and mix with the odor of the sweet-scented prairie grass that the young girls are braiding.

But neither Shah-co-pee the chief, nor old John the medicine man, could find out the secret; they coaxed and threatened in turns—­but all in vain, for their curiosity was not gratified.  They might have noticed, however, that Wenona’s face was pale, and her eyes red with weeping.  She was idle too, while the others plaited busily, and there was a subdued look of sadness about her countenance, contrasting strangely with the merry faces of the others.

“Why did you not tell Shah-co-pee what we were laughing at, Wenona?” said Wanska.  “Your secret is known now.  The Deer-killer told all at the Virgin’s feast.  Why did you not make him promise not to come?  If I had been you, I would have lain sick the day of the feast, I would have struck my foot, so that I could not walk, or, I would have died before I entered the ring.

“The Deer-killer promised to marry me,” replied Wenona.  “He said that when he returned from his hunt I should be his wife.  But I know well why he has disgraced me; you have tried to make him love you, and now he is waiting to take you to his lodge.  He is not a great warrior, or he would have kept his word.”

“Wenona!” said Wanska, interrupting her, “you have not minded the advice of your grandmother.  She told you never to trust the promises of the bravest warriors.  You should not have believed his words, until he took you to his wigwam.  But do not be afraid that I will marry the Deer-killer.  There was never but one woman among the Dahcotahs who did not marry, and I am going to be the second.”

“You had better hush, Wanska,” said the Bright Star.  “You know she had her nose cut off because she refused to be a wife, and somebody may cut yours off too.  It is better to be the mother of warriors than to have every one laughing at you.”

“Enah! then I will be married, rather than have my nose cut off, but I will not be the Deer-killer’s wife.  So Wenona may stop crying.”

“He says he will never marry me,” said Wenona; “and it will do me no good for you to refuse to be his wife.  But you are a liar, like him; for you know you love him.  I am going far away, and the man who has broken his faith to the maiden who trusted him, will never be a good husband.”

“If I were Wenona, and you married the Deer-killer,” said the Bright Star to Wanska, “you should not live long after it.  She is a coward or she would not let you laugh at her as you did.  I believe she has no heart since the Virgin’s feast; sometimes she laughs so loud that we can hear her from our teepee, and then she bends her head and weeps.  When her mother places food before her she says, ’Will he bring the meat of the young deer for me to dress for him, and will my lodge be ever full of food, that I may offer it to the hungry and weary stranger who stops to rest himself?’ If I were in her place, Wanska,” added the Bright Star, “I would try and be a medicine woman, and I would throw a spell upon the Deer-killer, and upon you too, if you married him.”