“When the voice of the people was still, Standing Hawk spoke to Running Wolf again, ‘My son, you have done the worst thing a man can do, but I have seen your tears and looked into your heart. Do not be afraid of anything, my son, for when you come again to me and are cleansed with lamenting, you shall be my son until I die.’ Then he asked that a cup of water be brought to him; and when it was brought, he gave Running Wolf to drink, and tears fell into the cup. Then Standing Hawk said, ‘Bring food that my son may eat.’ And when meat was brought to him, he cut it up himself and gave it to the killer of his son, and Running Wolf ate a little of the meat with his tears upon it. “Then the oldest man among the _wichasha yatapika_ stood up among his brothers where they sat. He leaned upon his cane and looked around the hoop where the people waited for his words, and his head shook. They listened hard, for he was feeble and his voice came thin. ‘My people, this day we have seen something that was given to the _wichasha yatapika_ when they were chosen. It is a hard thing to do that we have seen, but a man whom all praise must hold fast to his pipe and do what he was taught when he was asked to sit among us. He was told that a wounded dog with an arrow in his body would be brought to him, but he would not be angry. He would hold fast to his pipe. This is what was meant. This is what we have seen; and Standing Hawk has not forgotten. His son has been murdered and brought back to him. You have seen him hold fast to his pipe and remember what he was taught. It is _wachin tanka_ [magnanimity] you have seen, and it is good to see.’ Then the old, old man looked at Running Wolf sitting there upon the dead man, with his tears upon his face, and said, ‘Young warrior, my grandson, you have taken the place of him you killed. But first you must be cleansed by praying and lamenting. To the four quarters you shall go forth, and there shall be only strangers everywhere. The faces of your own you shall not look upon. Three moons you shall wander and lament and pray, thinking of this worst thing that you have done. For you have killed a home. Maka, the mother of all, you have wounded, and the sacred hoop of the people you have broken a little. Have a strong heart, and come back cleansed, my grandson.’ “When the old, old man had spoken, the people did not cry out; they only murmured all around the hoop, for they had seen and heard a great thing.