Prevod
Čeprav so se Indijanci bali gejzirskih kotlin v zgornjem toku Yellowstona, saj so verjeli, da sta sikanje in grmenje glasova zlih duhov, so imeli gore ob izviru reke za sleme sveta; kdor bi dosegel njihove vrhove, bi lahko pod seboj zagledal srečna lovišča, ki jih razsvetljujejo domovanja blaženih. Ljubili so to deželo, v kateri so lovili njihovi očetje, in ko so jih pregnali iz bližine naselij, so se Vrane zatekli na območje današnjega Yellowstonskega parka. Tudi sem so jim sledili vojaki, odločeni maščevati dejanja, ki so jih rdečekožci zagrešili pod žgočim bremenom tiranije in krivic. Le peščica ubežnikov se je zbrala na začetku tiste mogočne razpoke v zemlji, znane kot Veliki kanjon Yellowstona — peščica, ki ji je uspelo uiti kroglam vojakov — in s špartanskim pogumom so sklenili, da bodo raje umrli, kakor da bi jih ujeli in odpeljali hirat v oddaljeno ječo. Zgradili so splav in ga spustili na reko ob vznožju zgornjega slapa ter nekaj dni uživali obilje in mir, ki sta jim bila nekoč dana. Toda mir je bil kratkotrajen, kajti nekega jutra jih prebudi pokanje pušk — vojaki so jim za petami.
Vkrcajo se na splav in ga odrinejo proti sredini reke, morda z namenom, da bi dosegli nasprotni breg, a če je to res njihov namen, jim ga prepreči silovitost toka. Nekateri med njimi imajo puške in z njimi streljajo na vojake, vendar brez večjega uspeha; ti osupli stojijo na bregu. Vojaki ne streljajo, temveč z občutkom, podobnim grozi, spremljajo splav, ki ga zajame tok in ga med nenehnim obračanjem in pozibavanjem odnaša vse hitreje. Smrtna pesem se zmagoslavno dviga nad bičanje valov in oddaljeno, a strašno bobnenje, ki odmeva po kanjonu. Vsak rdečekožec kljubovalno upira obraz proti sovražniku in v napevu smrtne pesmi je poleg sovraštva in bahavosti čutiti tudi posmeh.
Splav je zdaj med skalnimi čeljustmi, ki tako lačno zevajo. Za njimi in pod njimi se dvigajo velikanske stene, ki se v stopnjah spuščajo proti dnu brezna tisoč čevljev niže — njihove žive barve žarijo v jutranjem soncu, ki gozdove in griče obliva s tako spokojno svetlobo, kakor da v tej naši svobodni deželi brat ne bi nikoli preganjal brata. Splav drvi skozi peno kakor dirkalni konj in vojaki, četudi so vsega vajeni, ne morejo zatreti srha, ko vidijo usodo, ki so si jo divjaki izbrali sami. Zdaj doseže rob. Splav se nagne proti breznu in z zmagoslavnim krikom rdečekožci poletijo čez slap v tuleči prepad, kjer meglice večno jočejo po skalah in mahu.
Izvirnik
Although the Indians feared the geyser basins of the upper Yellowstone country, believing the hissing and thundering to be voices of evil spirits, they regarded the mountains at the head of the river as the crest of the world, and whoso gained their summits could see the happy hunting-grounds below, brightened with the homes of the blessed. They loved this land in which their fathers had hunted, and when they were driven back from the settlements the Crows took refuge in what is now Yellowstone Park. Even here the soldiers pursued them, intent on avenging acts that the red men had committed while suffering under the sting of tyranny and wrong. A mere remnant of the fugitive band gathered at the head of that mighty rift in the earth known as the Grand Canon of the Yellowstone--a remnant that had succeeded in escaping the bullets of the soldiery,--and with Spartan courage they resolved to die rather than be taken and carried away to pine in a distant prison. They built a raft and placed it on the river at the foot of the upper fall, and for a few days they enjoyed the plenty and peace that were their privilege in former times. A short-lived peace, however, for one morning they are aroused by the crack of rifles--the troops are upon them.
Boarding their raft they thrust it toward the middle of the stream, perhaps with the idea of gaining the opposite shore, but, if such is their intent, it is thwarted by the rapidity of the current. A few among them have guns, that they discharge with slight effect at the troops, who stand wondering on the shore. The soldiers forbear to fire, and watch, with something like dread, the descent of the raft as it passes into the current, and, with many a turn and pitch, whirls on faster and faster. The death-song rises triumphant above the lash of the waves and that distant but awful booming that is to be heard in the canon. Every red man has his face turned toward the foe with a look of defiance, and the tones of the death-chant have in them something of mockery no less than hate and vaunting.
The raft is now between the jaws of rock that yawn so hungrily. Beyond and below are vast walls, shelving toward the floor of the gulf a thousand feet beneath--their brilliant colors shining in the sun of morning that sheds as peaceful a light on wood and hill as if there were no such thing as brother hunting brother in this free land of ours. The raft is galloping through the foam like a racehorse, and, hardened as the soldiers are, they cannot repress a shudder as they see the fate that the savages have chosen for themselves. Now the brink is reached. The raft tips toward the gulf, and with a cry of triumph the red men are launched over the cataract, into the bellowing chasm, where the mists weep forever on the rocks and mosses.
