And it happened that the man was pleased to speak evil words of Rain Walker, and Sun Eyes hung her head; her eyes were wet. Then said the man, having seen: “Why do you act so? Do you want him? Behold! Am I not as good to see as Rain Walker?” And he acted as one who is almost angry and a little sad. But the woman only sobbed a very little sob, for as the chief said in the council, a very wise man does not know the ways of a woman. And it happened that night, they say, that, as the two slept, Sun Eyes dreamed a strange dream that made her cry out. And the two sat up startled. “What is it?” said the man. “A dream!” sobbed Sun Eyes. “What dream?” said the man, and his voice seemed kind. “I cannot tell; I do not wish to be beaten.” “Tell it, Sun Eyes. Was it about—Rain Walker?” She did not answer; the man sighed. “Do not be afraid,” he said. And she spoke. “I dreamed that I saw my _zhinga zhinga_ that I am carrying. And it was Rain Walker’s. It had his face, and it looked upon me with hate. It pushed me away when I offered my breast. It would take no milk from me. And it seemed that its look pierced me like a barbed arrow. Thus I awoke, and cried out.” The woman was sobbing, and a tremor ran through the man. She felt it as he leaned against her, and she thought it anger. “Take me there where I came from—to the village of my people!” she cried. “You are big and good to see, and many women will follow you! Take me to my people! Dreams are wiser than men; the _wakundas_ send them. I wish to go back, that my child may smile and take my breast.” And the man rose and began dressing for the trail. “I will take you back,” said he. “Dreams are wiser than men.” And before the day walked the two went forth on the long trail, back to the village of the woman’s people. The man went before and the woman followed, bearing the burdens of the trail. But when the dawn came the man did a strange thing. He took the burdens upon his own shoulders, saying nothing. It seemed his heart had been softened; but his face being hidden, the woman could not see what was written there. And the trail was long; but the man was kind. He seemed no longer the Mad Buffalo. He made fires and pitched the tepee like a squaw. He spoke soft words. And after many days of travelling the two came, as the Night was beginning to walk, to the brown brow of the hill beneath which lay the village of the Omahas. And the man said: “There are your people. Go!” And the woman moaned, saying: “He will not take me, and the dream will be true. Never on the long trail did my heart fail; but now I am weak. My breast aches.” But the man said: “Sun Eyes, had not Rain Walker ever a soft heart? He will take you back. Look!” And the woman, who had been gazing through tears upon the village of her people, turned and saw that the man had torn the buckskin from his face. She gave a cry and shrank from what she saw. But the man took her gently by the hand.