He did not hear me when I called to him. I think that was when my horse broke loose. Then I had High Horse on my back and I was running. There were shadows flying by. Then there was only dust. Then all at once there was a white sun shining, and I was on a hillside alone and the roaring was yonder. “I sat beside High Horse and cried hard because I would never see him again in this world. While I was crying I felt his blood all over me, and a power came into me. I wanted to kill soldiers and die. So I called to High Horse, ‘My brother, look back as you are going, for I will be coming too! Look back and wait, for I will be coming soon!’” Eagle Voice fell silent, and for some time he sat gazing at the slatting canvas wall of the tepee, while the high wind carried on the story without words. At length he looked at me and, with a faint smile, said: “You can see that he has been waiting long. It is not good. I ran back towards the dust cloud and the roaring yonder, and I was crying hard. I wanted to die killing Wasichus. There was a gun on the ground and I picked it up for a club. There were soldiers’ horses with their reins tied together and they were running around in a little circle, rearing and pulling against each other. I got on one and rode at a run into the dust, looking for soldiers to kill and one to kill me. Then I was out on the other side. Wasichu horses were breaking out of the dust and warriors were chasing them. I did not want any horses then. I wanted to kill and die. So I rode back into the dust and it was getting thinner. There were soldiers on the ground. There were no soldiers standing. “The big noise died. The sun began to shine again. I rode back to High Horse and sat beside him awhile. I remembered and cried. The Wasichu horse did not try to run away. He stood with his head down. I think he was worn out. Afterwhile I lifted High Horse and put him behind the saddle. Then I started home with him. The power was gone out of me. There was no dust and no noise. Horseback warriors were standing scattered over the hill, just looking. The women and boys were swarming up from the valley looking for wounded soldiers to kill. “I took him home to his father’s tepee among the Miniconjous. Big fires burned that night and the people were dancing the victory dance until morning. I did not dance. I remembered and remembered, and the power was gone from me. I cried all night.” XXV _The Woman Who Died Twice_ “It was a great victory,” the old man said at last. He had been sitting like the embodiment of the brooding stillness outside. Yesterday’s booming warm wind had died late in the night, and it had seemed that the still, soft dawn needed only a meadowlark to be April.