"True," he replied in his fine, priestly way, a reminiscent flash of
the old fire lighting his eyes. "It is very true. The women wear
brighter colors. But they have found favor, in the eyes of thy white
men, and they look no more upon the young men of their own blood.
Wherefore the tribe does not increase, nor do the little children
longer clutter the way of our feet. It is so. The bellies are fuller
with the white man's grub; but also are they fuller with the white
man's bad whiskey. Nor could it be otherwise that the young men
contrive great wealth; but they sit by night over the cards, and it
passes from them, and they speak harsh words one to another, and in
anger blows are struck, and there is bad blood between them. As for
old Muskim, there are few offerings of meat and fish and blanket. For
the young women have turned aside from the old paths, nor do the young
men longer honor the old totems and the old gods. So these are bad
days, Tenas Hee-Hee, and they behold old Muskim go down in sorrow to
the grave."

"Ai! Ai! It is so!" wailed Neepoosa.

"Because of the madness of thy people have my people become mad,"
Muskim continued. "They come over the salt sea like the waves of the
sea, thy people, and they go--ah! who knoweth where?"

"Ai! Who knoweth where?" Neepoosa lamented, rocking slowly back and
forth.

"Ever they go towards the frost and cold; and ever do they come, more
people, wave upon wave!"