The Dahcotah was completely puzzled.  He had never cared for women; on the contrary, had avoided them.  He never wasted his time telling them they were beautiful, or playing on the flute to charm their senses.  He thought he had left all such things behind him, but already had he been twice baffled by a woman.  Still he continued his journey.  He had this consolation, the Dahcotah girls did not turn into birds and fly away.  At least there was the charm of novelty in the incidents.  The next day he killed a bear, but as usual he fell asleep while the tongue was roasting, and this time he was waked by a porcupine.  The fourth day he found his arrow in a buffalo.  “Now,” said he, “I will eat at last, and I will find out, too, who and what it is that wakes me.”

But he fell asleep as usual, and was waked in the morning by a female who touched him lightly and pointed to the path.  Her back was turned towards him, and instead of rising to follow her, he caught her in his arms, determined to see and talk with her.

Finding herself a prisoner, the girl turned her face to him, and Chaske had never seen anything so beautiful.

Her skin was white as the fairest flower that droops its head over the banks of the “Lac qui parle.”  Her hair was not plaited, neither was it black like the Dahcotah maidens’, but it hung in golden ringlets about her face and neck.  The warm blood tinted her cheeks as she met the ardent gaze of the Dahcotah, and Chaske could not ask her who she was.  How could he speak when his heart was throbbing, and every pulse beating wildly?

“Let me go,” said the girl; “why do you seek to detain me?  I am a beaver-woman, [Footnote:  According to the wise men of the Dahcotahs, beavers and bears have souls.  They have many traditions about bear and beaver-women] and you are a Dahcotah warrior.  Turn from me and find a wife among the dark-faced maidens of your tribe.”

“I have always despised them,” said the Dahcotah, “but you are more beautiful than the Spirits of the water.  I love you, and will make you my wife.”

“Then you must give up your people,” replied the girl, “for I cannot live as the Dahcotah women.  Come with me to my white lodge, and we will be happy; for see the bright water as it falls on the rocks.  We will sit by its banks during the heat of the day, and when we are tired, the music of its waves will lull us to sleep.”

So she took Chaske by the hand, and they walked on till they came to an empty white lodge, and there they lived and were very happy.  They were still happier when their little boy began to play about the lodge; for although they loved each other very much, still it was lonely where they lived, and the child was company for them both.