When Eagle Voice had ceased chuckling, the look of boyish merriment left his face, and for some time he sat motionless with closed eyes and bowed head, his hands upon his knees. He seemed very far away, as though the drifted wastes of many winters stretched between us. When I had fed the stove again, I said, only meaning to arouse him: “And did you get the hundred ponies and the scalps, and did High Horse get the girl at last?” He lifted his head, gazing through me and beyond. Then the far look shortened slowly, and he smiled. “It is a story, Grandson,” he said, “and you are in a hurry again, Wasichu that you are. There is a road, and what you ask is yonder. We are going on the war-path.” “‘But before we go, Grandfather,’ I said, ‘tell me why Lakotas sold their women. Wasichus sell their horses, but their women they give away. Was a Lakota woman only an animal that a man should buy her?’ “Your heart is Lakota, Grandson,” the old man answered, smiling indulgently as upon a child, “but you ask a foolish question like a Wasichu. In the old days we did not buy and sell the way Wasichus do. We stole our horses from our enemies, daring much, for we were brave men. If we gave them to a father and asked him for his daughter, who should have a woman but a brave man good for something? “Before the sacred hoop was broken it was made of men and women, and from each there was a power that kept it strong. I think, before we go to war, I will tell you an _ohunka_ story about the power of women. Old people used to tell it in the night; and their grandchildren after them, grown old themselves; and their grandchildren too, and theirs, and theirs, the story is so old. Now all of those are gone and many more, and I will tell it, being old myself. Old people used to say that if _ohunka_ stories were told by daylight, something bad would happen to the teller. Maybe he would get sick and die, or his grandson would be killed, or his old woman would fall and break her hip. And I have even heard them say--” Here the old man paused to chuckle. “I have even heard them say he might grow long curly hair all over his backside; but maybe they were joking. Sometimes if somebody who wanted to hear made a gift, an _ohunka_ story could be told on a dark day. You have made a gift, Grandson, and the day is dark, so I can tell it; and this is the story about the power of women. “Many snows ago there were two young Lakota warriors. One was named Good Voice Hawk, and he was a very good-looking fellow. The other was called Brave Eagle, and he was not good-looking at all.