Shot the red deer in the forest,
Shot the squirrel in the pine-top,
Shot Ne-ka, the wild-goose, flying. 
Proud as Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
To the lodge he bore his trophies. 
So when homeward turned the Panther,
Ever found he food provided,
Found the lodge-fire brightly burning,
Found the faithful Sea-Gull waiting. 
“You are cold,” she said, “and famished;
Here are fire and food, my husband.” 
Not by word or look he answered;
Only ate the food provided,
Filled his pipe and pensive puffed it,
Sat and smoked in sullen silence. 
Once—­her dark eyes full of hunger—­
Thus she spoke and thus besought him: 
“Tell me, O my silent Panther,
Tell me, O beloved husband,
What has made you sad and sullen? 
Have you met some evil spirit—­
Met some goblin in the forest? 
Has he put a spell upon you—­
Filled your heart with bitter waters,
That you sit so sad and sullen,
Sit and smoke, but never answer,
Only when the storm is on you?”

Gruffly then the Panther answered: 
“Brave among the brave is Panther
Son of Waub-Ojeeg, the warrior,
And the brave are ever silent;
But a whining dog is woman,
Whining ever like a coward.” 
Forth into the tangled forest,
Threading through the thorny thickets,
Treading trails on marsh and meadow,
Sullen strode the moody hunter. 
Saw he not the bear or beaver,
Saw he not the elk or roebuck;
From his path the red fawn scampered,
But no arrow followed after;
From his den the sly wolf listened,
But no twang of bow-string heard he. 
Like one walking in his slumber,
Listless, dreaming, walked the Panther;
Surely had some witch bewitched him,
Some bad spirit of the forest.

When the Sea-Gull wed the Panther,
Fair was she and full of laughter;
Like the robin in the spring-time,
Sang from sunrise till the sunset;
But the storms of many winters
Sifted frost upon her tresses,
Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. 
Not alone the storms of winters
Seamed her tawny face with wrinkles. 
Twenty winters for the Panther
Had she ruled the humble wigwam;
For her haughty lord and master
Borne the burdens on the journey,
Gathered fagots for the lodge-fire,
Tanned the skins of bear and beaver,
Tanned the hides of moose and red-deer;
Made him moccasins and leggins,
Decked his hood with quills and feathers—­
Colored quills of Kaug,[8] the thorny,
Feathers from Kenew,[8] the eagle. 
For a warrior brave was Panther;
Often had he met the foemen,
Met the bold and fierce Dakotas,
Westward on the war-path met them;
And the scalps he won were numbered,
Numbered seven by Kenew-feathers. 
Sad at heart was Sea-Gull waiting,
Watching, waiting in the wigwam;
Not alone the storms of winters
Sifted frost upon her tresses.