His back was broken by coming so violently in contact with them, but that he did not mind--he thought only of revenge, and the recovery of his sweethearts.
He waited but to get some powerful poison and prepare it, and then he stole softly back to the wigwam of Way-gee-mar-kin.

All was silent, and he crept in without making the slightest noise.

There lay the chief, with a young girl on each side of him.
They were all sound asleep, the chief lying on his back, with his mouth wide open.

Before he was aware of it, the poison was down his throat, and Shee-shee-banze had retreated quietly to his own lodge.
The next morning the cry went through the village that Way-gee-mar-kin had been found dead in his bed.

Of course it was attributed to over-indulgence at the feast.