We must go back two days before this incident occurred. In a large wigwam were two persons. The one, a young, pale woman, seated on a mat. The white lips and the black shadows beneath the eyes, told of watchings and despair. No tear moistened the colourless eyelids, no sigh relieved the overburdened heart. Still as death itself, the young mother gazed on the unconscious cause of her agony. There it lay, peaceful and calm, against her throbbing heart. There it lay, as it was wont, when seated on the high rocks by the Mississippi, it heard the sweet tones of a mother's voice. There it lay, never to hear even them again. Absorbed in her grief, the mother knew not that there was another in the wigwam. She was recalling, as she gazed on the crushed flower thus rudely torn from her love, the many and strange changes of the past year. She had once looked forward to the future, as the young always do. She loved and was promised to the one she loved. Fiery Man came from afar, with his powerful, athletic frame, and his deep and piercing eyes, and his voice so low and solemn. He stopped at her father's village, returning from a successful expedition against the Sacs; and he was full of proud boastings. He said he was "a great warrior, and hunter too, for his lodge was always full of game; that he had taken more scalps than any brave of his band; that when he held his enemies, they were like children in his large hand." In an evil hour his eye fell upon White Moon. He loved her because she was the opposite of himself. He fancied the gentle and submissive way in which she received the directions of her parents. When he saw her eyes droop and her cheek mantle when the warriors danced--when he watched her and marked that she only looked at one--when he inquired, and learned that to that one was she destined, then did he mark her for his own; he was as cool and determined as if he had been aiming his arrow at the frightened grouse; as sure of his prey as if the bird lay already bleeding at his feet. He went to her mother, and showed her the rich crimson cloth he had received from the traders on his way. Other presents he laid before her, very valuable then; for traders were just coming in the country, and articles for use or adorning were rare among the Sioux. The mother told him her child was promised,--that White Moon loved the noble young warrior she was to marry, and she could not break her daughter's heart. The father came in, and Fiery Man showed him his new gun,--they were scarce then, and were deemed wakun (supernatural). Fiery Man enlarged upon its merits, and he pressed on the foolish old man the advantages of securing him as a friend, by giving him his daughter in marriage.