privacy was violated, since it was known through the tribes that they
wished for no intercourse with mortals. Before that time many Indians
were missing each year. No one knew what became of them, but they were
gone, and left no trace nor story behind. Valiant warriors filled
their quivers with arrows, put new strings to their bows, new shod
their moccasins, and sallied out to acquire glory in combat; but there
was no wailing in the camp of our foes: their arrows were not felt,
their shouts were not heard. Yet they fell not by the hands of our
foes, but perished we know not how.

Many seasons ago there lived within the limits of the great
council-fire of the Mahas a chief who was renowned for his valour and
victories in the field, his wisdom in the council, his dexterity and
success in the chase. His name was Mahtoree, or the White Crane. He
was celebrated throughout the vast regions of the West, from the
Mississippi to the Hills of the Serpent, from the Missouri to the
Plains of Bitter Frost, for all those qualities which render an Indian
warrior famous and feared.

In one of the war expeditions of the Pawnee Mahas against the
Burntwood Tetons, it was the good fortune of the former to overcome
and to make many prisoners--men, women, and children. One of the
captives, Sakeajah, or the Bird-Girl, a beautiful creature in the
morning of life, after being adopted into one of the Mahas families,
became the wife of the chief warrior of the nation. Great was the love
which the White Crane had for his wife, and it grew yet stronger when
she had brought him four sons and a daughter, Tatokah, or the
Antelope. She was beautiful. Her skin was fair, her eyes were large
and bright as those of the bison-ox, and her hair black, and braided
with beads, brushed, as she walked, the dew from the flowers upon the
prairies. Her temper was gentle and her voice sweet.

It may not be doubted that the beautiful Tatokah had many lovers; but
the heart of the maiden was touched by none of the noble youths who
sought her. She bade them all depart as they came; she rejected them
all. With the perverseness which is often seen among women, she had
placed her affections upon a youth who had distinguished himself by no
valiant deeds in war, nor by industry or dexterity in the chase. His
name had never reached the surrounding nations. His own nation knew
him not, unless as a weak and imbecile man. He was poor in everything
which constitutes the riches