The Soft-Hearted Sioux | Page 4

leather straps at my heels; yet I did not turn to see
what pursued me, for I was intent upon reaching my father. Suddenly
like thunder an angry voice shouted curses and threats into my ear! A
rough hand wrenched my shoulder and took the meat from me! I
stopped struggling to run. A deafening whir filled my head. The moon
and stars began to move. Now the white prairie was sky, and the stars
lay under my feet. Now again they were turning. At last the starry blue
rose up into place. The noise in my ears was still. A great quiet filled
the air. In my hand I found my long knife dripping with blood. At my
feet a man's figure lay prone in blood-red snow. The horrible scene
about me seemed a trick of my senses, for I could not understand it was
real. Looking long upon the blood-stained snow, the load of meat for
my starving father reached my recognition at last. Quickly I tossed it
over my shoulder and started again homeward.
Tired and haunted I reached the door of the wigwam. Carrying the food
before me, I entered with it into the tepee.
"Father, here is food!" I cried, as I dropped the meat near my mother.
No answer came. Turning about, I beheld my gray-haired father dead! I
saw by the unsteady firelight an old gray-haired skeleton lying rigid
and stiff.
Out into the open I started, but the snow at my feet became bloody.

V
On the day after my father's death, having led my mother to the camp
of the medicine-man, I gave myself up to those who were searching for
the murderer of the paleface.
They bound me hand and foot. Here in this cell I was placed four days
ago.
The shrieking winter winds have followed me hither. Rattling the bars,
they howl unceasingly: "Your soft heart! your soft heart will see me die
before you bring me food!" Hark! something is clanking the chain on
the door. It is being opened. From the dark night without a black figure
crosses the threshold... It is the guard. He comes to warn me of my fate.
He tells me that to-morrow I must die. In his stern face I laugh aloud. I
do not fear death.
Yet I wonder who shall come to welcome me in the realm of strange
sight. Will the loving Jesus grant me pardon and give my soul a
soothing sleep? or will my warrior father greet me and receive me as
his son? Will my spirit fly upward to a happy heaven? or shall I sink
into the bottomless pit, an outcast from a God of infinite love?
Soon, soon I shall know, for now I see the east is growing red. My
heart is strong. My face is calm. My eyes are dry and eager for new
scenes. My hands hang quietly at my side. Serene and brave, my soul
awaits the men to perch me on the gallows for another flight. I go.
2 RTEXTR*ch

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