E'er the sunrise on the morrow.
Then, returning to their wigwams,
Wah-ho-bec-ca told his parents
Of his wooing of Me-nung-gah,
Of her promise to go with him.
Wah-ho-bec-ca sent a message
To the mother of Me-nung-gah,
Telling of her daughter's safety.
"Go and tell her," said the chieftain
To the messenger entrusted,
"That my tribe, the tribe of Pon-ca,
Will be friendly to the Kon-zas.
We will rescue from the Pawnees
All the ponies they have stolen.
We will early come with presents
That will bind the tribes together.
Tell her she shall join the Pon-cas
In our new home of Ne-blas-ka,
If she cares to leave the Kon-zas;
That Me-nung-gah will go with me
As the wife of Wah-ho-bec-ca,
Chief of all the tribe of Pon-ca,
Take to her this bit of scalp-lock
From the fiend who stole her daughter.
Go, and may the great Wah-kun-dah
Speed you safely on your journey.
Thus instructed, Shung-ga-nunga,
Swiftest of the nation's runners,
Sped across the hills and valleys
To the junction of the rivers
Where was camped the tribe of Kon-zas.
Knowing well the Indian custom
That at early dawn of morning,
Clad in sack cloth and in ashes
Women would be weeping, wailing
At the grave of their departed,
Shung-ga-nunga, safely hidden
In the brush along the river,
Waited for the weeping widow,
For the widow of Wah-tun-gah,

For the mother of Me-nung-gah.
Long he waited in the darkness,
Tired, foot sore, worn and weary,
Dropping off in fitful slumber
Till at last he was awakened
By the voices of the women,
Wailing as they left their wigwams,
Weeping for their dear departed.
Then he knew the hated Pawnees
Must have killed a goodly number
Of his former tribe the Kon-zas.
Eagerly he scanned the faces
Of the wailing, crying women,
As they passed toward the hill-top
Where their fallen ones were buried
In the rocks upon the hill-tops.
Soon he saw Me-nung-gah's mother,
Then he spoke and beckoned to her.
When she recognized the features
Of the messenger before her,
She was glad to hear the story
Of the rescue of her daughter
And her prospects for the future.
But, said she to Shung-ga-nunga,
"I can never leave the Kon-zas,
That were loyal to Wah-tun-gah
Who lies buried on the hill-top,
And for whom you see me mourning.
Now the chief is Ish-toh-la-zha,
"Spotted eyes," Me-nung-gah's brother.
He is young and I must help him
Bear the burden of the Kon-zas;
Tell my daughter to be faithful
To the young chief Wah-ho-bec-ca;
Warn him of the pale-faced stranger
With his deadly fire-water;
Tell him never more to drink it;
It will ruin as it ruined

All the once great tribe of Kon-zas;
Tell him we will keep our country

On the borders of the river

That flows down to the Mo-sho-jah,
Go, and may the great Wah-kun-dah
Speed you on your homeward journey."
Then the mother of Me-nung-gah
Went and told to all her people
What the messenger had told her
Of the safety of her daughter,
Of the new tribe of the Pon-cas
Who would be their faithful allies,
And would help them fight the Pawnees
And restore their stolen ponies.
Then, forgetting for the moment
All their troubles and their sorrows,
All the Kon-zas met and feasted;
Held a war dance round the scalp-lock
Of the Pawnee who had stolen
And had borne away Me-nung-gah.
Stealthily, young Shung-ga-nunga
Stole his way back through the timber
Till he reached the open prairie;
Then he hastened, running swiftly
Over hills and through the valleys,
Straight as could have flown a raven
To the village of the Pon-cas,
Where he gave to Wah-ho-bec-ca
First, the message of the mother
Of his future wife, Me-nung-gah.

CANTO IX

THE WEDDING

When his parents heard the glad news,
They rejoiced with Wah-ho-bec-ca
And sent presents to Me-nung-gah.
Beads and ribbons they had purchased
In their dealings with the strangers
E'er they left the great Mo-sho-jah.