Well might she weep! and tremble too, for death among the Dahcotahs
comes as often by the fire water purchased from the white people, as
from the murderous tomahawk and scalping-knife of the Chippeways.
Nor were her fears useless; she never again saw her son, until his body
was brought to her, his dark features stiff in death. The death blow was
given, too, by the friend who had shamed him from listening to his
mother's voice.
* * * * *
What wonder that she should not heed the noise of the tempest! The
storms of her life had been fiercer than the warring of the elements.
But while the fountains of heaven were unsealed, those of her heart were
closed forever. Never more should tears relieve her, who had shed so
many. Often had she gone into the prairies to weep, far from the sight
of her companions. Her voice was heard from a distance. The wind would
waft the melancholy sound back to the village.
"It is only Harpstenah," said the women. "She has gone to the prairies
to weep for her husband and her children."
The storm raged during the night, but ceased with the coming of day.
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