Changed into a snow-white sea-gull,
Spread her wings and o’er the waters
Swiftly flew and swiftly vanished. 
Then in secret to the Panther
Raven told his tale of wonder. 
Sad and sullen was the hunter;
Sorrow gnawed his heart like hunger;
All the old love came upon him,
And the new love was a hatred. 
Hateful to his heart was Red Fox,
But he kept from her the secret—­
Kept his knowledge of the murder. 
Vain was she and very haughty—­
Oge-ma-kwa[25] of the wigwam. 
All in vain her fond caresses
On the Panther now she lavished;
When she smiled his face was sullen,
When she laughed he frowned upon her;
In her net of raven tresses
Now no more she held him tangled. 
Now through all her fair disguises
Panther saw an evil spirit,
Saw the false heart of the woman.

On the tall cliff o’er the waters
Raven sat with Waub-omee-mee,
Sat and watched again and waited,
Till the wee one, faint and famished,
Made a long and piteous wailing. 
Then again the snow-white Sea-Gull,
From afar where sky and waters
Meet in misty haze and mingle,
Straight toward the rocky highland,
Straight as flies the feathered arrow,
Straight to Raven and the infant,
With the silver chain around her,
Flew and touched the earth a woman. 
In her arms she caught her infant—­
Caught the wailing Waub-omee-mee,
Sang a lullaby and nursed her. 
Sprang the Panther from the thicket—­
Sprang and broke the chain of silver! 
With his tomahawk he broke it. 
Thus he freed the willing Sea-Gull—­
From the Water-Spirit freed her,
From the Chief of Nebe-naw-baigs.

Very angry was the Spirit;
When he drew the chain of silver,
Drew and found that it was broken,
Found that he had lost the woman,
Very angry was the Spirit. 
Then he raged beneath the waters,
Raged and smote the mighty waters,
Till the big sea boiled and bubbled,
Till the white-haired, bounding billows
Roared around the rocky headlands,
Rolled and roared upon the shingle.

To the wigwam happy Panther,
As when first he wooed and won her
Led his wife—­as young and handsome. 
For the waves of Gitchee Gumee
Washed away the frost and wrinkles,
And the spirits by their magic
Made her young and fair forever.

In the wigwam sat the Red Fox,
Sat and sang a song of triumph,
For she little dreamed of danger,
Till the haughty hunter entered,
Followed by the happy mother,
Holding in her arms her infant. 
When the Red Fox saw the Sea-Gull—­
Saw the dead a living woman,
One wild cry she gave despairing,
One wild cry as of a demon. 
Up she sprang and from the wigwam
To the tall cliff flew in terror;
Frantic sprang upon the margin,
Frantic plunged into the waters,
Headlong plunged into the waters.