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Rh In his face a stony firmness;

On his brow the sweat of anguish

Started, but it froze and fell not.

Wrapped in furs and armed for hunting,

With his mighty bow of ash-tree,

With his quiver full of arrows,

With his mittens, Minjekahwun,

Into the vast and vacant forest

On his snow-shoes strode he forward.

"Gitche Manito, the Mighty!"

Cried he with his face uplifted

In that bitter hour of anguish,

"Give your children food, O father!

Give us food, or we must perish!

Give me food for Minnehaha,

For my dying Minnehaha!"

Through the far-resounding forest,

Through the forest vast and vacant

Rang that cry of desolation,

But there came no other answer