In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water Long the Summer-Glory lingered, Loath to yield its ripened beauty To the cold embrace of Winter. And the greenness of the forest Gave no sign of coming treason, Till the White Frost without warning Hung his banners from the tree-tops. Then a blush of brilliant color Decked each shrub with tinted beauty; Gold, and brown, and scarlet mingled Till no color seemed triumphant; And the Summer doomed to exile Fled before the chilling Autumn.
While the glow of colors deepened, The proud Weroance Win-gin-a, Chief of Das-a-mon-gue-pue land, Made a feast for all his people; Called them forth with bow and arrow To a test of skill and valor. He was weary of the mysteries Whispered of the famous White Doe, Whose strange courage feared no hunter, For no arrow ever reached her. "Ha!" said he, "a skilful hunter Is not daunted by a white doe; Craven hearts make trembling fingers, Arrows fail when shot by cowards. _I_ will shoot this doe so fearless, Her white skin shall be my mantle,[AA] Her white meat shall serve for feasting, And my braves shall cease from fearing. From the fields the maize invites us, Sturgeons have been fat and plenty. We are weary of fish-eating, We will feast on meat of white deer."
Messengers of invitation Sent he to the other nations, Saying, "Come and hunt the White Doe, Bring your surest, fleetest arrows; We will eat the meat of white deer, We will drink the purple grape-juice, Burn the uppowoc in pipe-bowls, While we shame the trembling hunters."
But the Cro-a-to-ans kept silence, Sent no answer to his greeting. They believed the charmèd White Doe Was Wi-no-na Skâ's pure spirit, Who in freedom still was happy, And they would not wound or harm her, They would shoot no arrows at her, Nor help feast upon her body.
Then O-kis-ko answered boldly; "I will go and hunt this White Doe, I will shoot from my own ambush, I will take my fleetest arrow." And the men and women wondered, For they knew his former loving.
But O-kis-ko kept his secret, Showed no one his new-made arrow; 'Round his shoulders threw a mantle Made of skins of many sea-gulls, So that he could hide his arrow, And no mortal eye could see it Till he sent it on its mission Winged with magic, fraught with mercy.