XXXIX.
That night, returning from the accustomed pool,
Came Waban laden with the beavers' spoils,
And joy seemed dancing in his very soul
As he displayed the produce of his toils;
Much he rejoiced, and Williams heard the whole,—
How long he watched, how many were his foils;
Then how the cunning beasts were captured all,
As through the fractured ice they sought to crawl.
XL.
"Bravely," said Williams, "has my brother done,
No more the cunning wights will mock his skill.
Waban is rich; will he not hie him soon
To the pale wigwams, and his girdle fill
With the bright wampum?—Ere to-morrow's sun
Shall hide behind the crest of yonder hill,
Waban may gain the pale-faced stranger's town,
And in his brother's wigwam sit him down."
XLI.
"The hunter goes," said Waban in reply;
Then fired his calumet and curled its smoke,
And silent sate in all the dignity
Which conscious worth can give the human look.
But when the fragrant clouds to mount on high
Had ceased, he from the bowl the embers shook,
And spread on earth the brown deer's rustling hide,
Expanding to the eye its naked side.
XLII.
Then thus he spake: "My brother doth require
Waban to show where neighboring Sachems reign;—
Doubtless he seeks to light his council fire
Within some good and valiant chief's domain,
