WAR–EAGLE AND HIS PARTY REACH THE DESERTED CAMP OF THE OSAGES.—THE LATTER FALL IN WITH A STRANGE BAND OF INDIANS, AND MAHÉGA APPEARS IN THE CHARACTER OF A DIPLOMATIST.

A bright sun shone upon the little valley which, twenty–four hours before, had been deserted by the Osages, when a tall form glided cautiously to its entrance, half concealed by the bushes that fringed its edge. Glancing hastily around, War–Eagle, for he it was, who was guiding his party in pursuit, returned to announce to them his belief that the enemy had decamped: nevertheless, the usual precautions were adopted against a surprise. A small body of Delawares were thrown forward to reconnoitre the neighbouring woods, under the command of Atto, while the chief, accompanied by Reginald, Ethelston, and the rest of the party, entered the deserted Osage encampment; every nook and cranny among the adjacent woods and rocks were diligently explored, and not till then were they convinced that their crafty foe had given them the slip. While the rest of the party were busied in this search, the eye of Reginald Brandon rested in absorbed attention upon the spot to which his steps had been first led, as if by the power of instinct; it was a small plot, completely sheltered by the rock which guarded the front of the recess; a few holes made in the turf showed where pegs had been driven in to secure a circular tent. “Here,” said Reginald to Ethelston, “here is the spot trodden by her dear feet—here have her weary limbs reposed during the long watches of the night—here have her prayers been offered up at noon and eve for that rescue which we seem doomed, alas! never to accomplish!”

“Say not a word, my son,” said Paul MÜller, laying his hand kindly on the excited Reginald’s shoulder; “say not a word, my son, which would seem to limit the power or the mercy of that Being to whom those prayers were addressed. Hope is the privilege, perseverance the duty of man; let us faithfully use these bounties, and leave the issue to His all–wise disposal.”

“I am indeed ashamed of my hasty expression, worthy father,” said Reginald, frankly; “but I will draw encouragement from your suggestion, and banish every desponding thought, while there remains a chance of success, or even a glimmering of hope.”

Wingenund, who had approached unobserved to the side of his friend, whispered to him in a low voice, “Netis is right: here it was that Olitipa sat when Wingenund was a prisoner; she is not far, the LenapÉ warriors never lose a trail.”

While they were thus conversing, a messenger from War–Eagle summoned them to a consultation on the plan of pursuit which should be adopted.

It may not be unnecessary to inform those who have never been upon the prairies of the Far–west, that a trail is easily followed when the party pursued is in full retreat, because any indication of footsteps is a sure guide to its course; whereas, in a camping–place, where a party has remained for a considerable time, numberless paths are trodden in various directions during its stay, some for hunting excursions, some for bringing water, others for leading horses to and from their pasturage, so that the pursuer is at a loss to discover by which of these paths those of whom he is in pursuit have retreated.

War–Eagle being well aware that MahÉga was not less skilled than himself in all the stratagems and devices of Indian warfare, set about this difficult task with a deliberation that did not suit the eager temper of Reginald Brandon; nevertheless, he had so much confidence in the sagacity of his Indian brother, that he restrained all expression of his impatience, and agreed without objection to the method proposed by him at the council. Agreeably to this plan, Paul MÜller, Perrot, and several of the hunters and Delawares, remained on guard at the camp, while the main body, divided into small parties of two or three in each, were to explore every trail that offered a probability of success, and to return before nightfall to report the result of their search. War–Eagle set out, accompanied by Atto; Reginald was joined by Ethelston and Baptiste; the other parties took the respective quarters assigned to them, and Wingenund, who remained some time after they had started, left the camp alone.

The trail followed by Reginald and his friends led towards the upper part of the valley, over broken and bushy ground, intersected here and there by streamlets, and small springs, which just afforded water enough to soften the herbage, in which they were soon lost. Had he been less absorbed by the object of the expedition, Reginald could not have failed to admire the tranquil beauty of this sheltered and secluded spot; but the rich foliage of the forest trees, the merry chirrup of the birds, the fragrance exhaled by the numberless shrubs and flowers, the tempting clusters of wild raspberries, scattered around their path,—all these were passed unheeded by men whose senses and faculties were centered only on the trail. With equal modesty and good sense, Reginald had desired Baptiste to take the lead, knowing that the sturdy forester’s experience in such matters was far greater than his own.

After they had marched a considerable distance in silence, Reginald inquired the opinion of his guide.

“Why, you see,” replied the latter, “the Osages have driven their horses several times this way to feed, and their marks are plain enough; but if a man may judge by the looks of the country forward, this is not likely to be the right trail. It seems to get smaller the further we go; and I’m inclined to think it’s only been a hunting–path into the woods.”

After this unsatisfactory observation, Baptiste again went forward, until he stopped at the skeleton of a deer; the same, it may be remembered, as was mentioned in a former chapter. Here all traces of a further trail ceased, and the disappointed Reginald exclaimed,—

“Baptiste, your suggestion was only too correct; we have lost our time; let us return, and search in some other direction.”

“Not so fast, Master Reginald,” replied the cautious guide; “there’s as many tricks in an Indian’s brain as there are holes in a honeycomb. The animal has been dead some time, and unless this grass deceive me, it has been trodden within these two days. Voyons vÎte, as they say up north. Stand quite still: and you, too, Master Ethelston, keep on that side of the deer’s bones, while I have a bit of a hunt after the wood fashion.”

So saying, the guide, resting the “Doctor” upon the skeleton, and throwing himself upon his knees, began to turn over the leaves, and to examine minutely every blade of grass and fallen twig, muttering, as he pursued his task, “If War–Eagle, or one of his double–sighted Delawares were here, he would pick out this trail in no time. My eyes are not so good as they were some years back; but they will serve this purpose, however! This is only bungling work, after all: one—two;—yes, I think there’s been two of them. Capote! they’ve strewed sticks and leaves over the back–trail!” And the rough woodsman as, creeping forward on his knees, he discovered each succeeding step on the trail, hummed snatches of an old Canadian song, the only words of which that the two friends could distinguish, being, “Vogue, vogue, la bonne pirogue!”

“Has it not often been a matter of surprise to you,” said Ethelston in a whisper to Reginald, “that the language, and even the dialect of the guide so constantly varies? Sometimes he speaks very intelligible English; at others, his phrases and exclamations are mostly French; and, on other occasions, he mingles the two most strangely together.”

“I confess,” replied Reginald, “the same thought has often occurred to me; yet it is not, perhaps, so strange as it would at first sight appear, when we remember the vicissitudes of his early life, the number of years that he spent in youth among the French boatmen and traders of the northern lakes, his excursions with them into the country of the Upper Sioux and the Chippewyan nations; while for the last fifteen years he has been much employed by my father, and, from his honesty and trustworthy qualities, has been thrown a great deal into constant intercourse with persons of respectability and education.”

Meanwhile, Baptiste having ascertained the direction of the trail, cast his eyes forward, and, like a shrewd reasoner, jumped to his conclusion,—in this instance, more correctly than is usually the case with the persons to whom he has been likened. Pushing aside the bushes which grew at the base of a rock, he soon observed a large aperture, closed by a stone of corresponding dimensions. This last was, with the aid of Reginald, soon displaced, and the “cÂche” of the Osages, together with the plundered treasure it contained, was exposed to view.

“So, so!” chuckled the guide, “we have found the thieving fox’s hole;—an’ they do not cover their trail somewhat better from the eyes of War–Eagle, we shall have their skins before three nights are over; why, a town lawyer could have treed this coon!”

Reginald and Ethelston could not forbear laughing at the low estimation in which the woodsman held the ferreting powers of a town lawyer,—an estimation so contrary to that entertained by those who have any experience in the capacity of a class so unjustly depreciated. They resolved to carry with them to the camp the whole contents of the cave, with a view to their being forthwith appropriated and disposed of by War–Eagle, now the chief of the tribe.

Three large blankets were easily tied into the form of so many sacks, of which each threw one over his shoulder, and they returned with their recovered spoil to the encampment.

Great was the surprise of the Delawares when they saw the three white men coming in, hot and weary with their load; greater still, when the blankets were opened, and their contents laid out upon the turf, among which were found lead, powder, cloth, knives, beads, paint, medicine–bags, and a variety of small articles, plundered from the lodge of the unfortunate Tamenund, and those adjoining. Among these were a few books and instruments belonging to Prairie–bird and Paul MÜller, all of which were immediately delivered over to the latter.

War–Eagle’s party was already so well supplied with necessaries of every kind, that only a small portion of the goods was required for their use; and the chief, after permitting every man to claim anything which might have belonged to himself or his relatives, ordered the remainder to be packed in bales of convenient size, so that they might be either carried with them, or concealed, as circumstances might render advisable.

The council was opened by War–Eagle, who desired the several parties, who had been out in different directions, to state the result of the search. This was done with the brief simplicity usually observed by Indians on such occasions. But nothing of importance was elicited; for of the trails which they had examined, none seemed to be that pursued by the Osages in their retreat. During the speech of one of the Delaware warriors, Wingenund, who had not before made his appearance, noiselessly entered the circle, and taking his place by the side of Reginald, leaned in silence upon his rifle.

Baptiste, whose age and experience entitled him to speak and who suspected that the chief had not been altogether unsuccessful in his search, addressed him thus:—“Has War–Eagle no word for his warriors? Grande–HÂche and Netis have found the stolen goods: has the path of the thief been dark to the eyes of the chief?”

“The foot of War–Eagle has been on the Washashee trail,” was the calm reply.

A murmur of satisfaction ran through the assembly, and Reginald could scarcely restrain the open expression of his impatient joy.

“The trail is fresh,” continued the chief: “not more than two dews have fallen on the prints of foot and hoof.”

“Did my brother see the foot–marks of Olitipa and the Comanche girl?” inquired Reginald, hastily.

“He did not; but he saw the trail of Olitipa’s horse; iron is on two of its feet.”[61]

During this conversation, Wingenund more than once looked up in the face of his white brother, then cast his eyes again upon the ground without speaking. The expression of the youth’s countenance did not escape the observation of War–Eagle, who thus addressed him: “Has the young warrior of the race of Tamenund seen nothing? He has been far over the prairie; his step was the last to return to camp; his eyes are not shut: there are words in his breast; why are his lips silent?”

The youth modestly replied, in a voice, the singularly musical tone of which charmed and surprised Ethelston, who had seldom heard him speak before, “Wingenund waited until warriors who have seen many summers, and travelled the war–path often, should have spoken. Wingenund has been on the Washashee trail.”

At this announcement an exclamation of surprise was uttered by several of the bystanders, for all had seen that the direction whence the youth had returned to the camp was quite different from that which had been pursued by War–Eagle, and yet the latter had affirmed that he had been on the trail of the enemy. The chief himself was, indeed, surprised, but he knew the diffidence, as well as the acute sagacity of the young speaker; and although confident that he was not mistaken in his own judgment, he was not by any means disposed to overrule, without careful inquiry, that of his brother. The conversation between them was thus pursued:—

“Were there horses on the trail found by Wingenund?”

“There were not.”

“Were the men many in number?”

“Wingenund cannot surely say; the trail was old and beaten; buffalo had passed on it; of fresh marks he could not see many; more than four, not so many as ten.”

“Let my brother point with his finger to the line of the trail.”

The youth slowly turned, cast his eye upward at the sun, thence at the rocks overhanging the valley to the northward, and then pointed steadily in a north–easterly direction.

War–Eagle, well assured that his own observation had been correct, and that he had followed a trail leading towards the north–west, thus continued: “There are many nations and bands of Indians here; a false light may have shone on the path. How does my young brother know that the feet of the Washashee had trodden it?”

There was a natural dignity, without the slightest touch of vanity, in the manner of the youth, as he replied: “The Great Spirit has given eyes to Wingenund, and he has learnt from War–Eagle to know the mocassin of a Washashee from that of a Dahcotah, a Pawnee, a Shawano, or a Maha.”

After musing a moment, War–Eagle continued, “Did my brother find the foot of Olitipa and the Comanche girl on the path?”

“He could not find the mark of their feet, yet he believes they are on the path,” was the unhesitating reply.

Reginald and Ethelston looked at the speaker with undisguised astonishment; and War–Eagle, although he could not believe but what the latter was mistaken, continued thus to question him: “My brother’s speech is dark; if he could find no trail of the women, why does he think that they are on the path? Have the Washashee carried them?”

“Not so,” replied Wingenund. “Twice the trail crossed a soft bank of sand, where water runs from the mountains in winter: there were the marks of two who had passed lately, their feet large as those of the warriors, the tread light as that of a woman or young boy.”

The chief was very reluctant to say or do aught that might give pain to his young brother, whose future success as war–leader of the LenapÉ had ever been the object of his fondest hopes; but in the urgent business in which they were now engaged, he felt that all other considerations must be secondary to the recovery of Olitipa, and revenge on MahÉga for the loss and disgrace inflicted on the LenapÉ.

“My brother has eyes as sharp, and feet as light, as a panther,” he said in a kindly tone, “but a trail in this strange country may deceive a man who has been on the war–path for twenty summers. The trail followed by War–Eagle goes through that small valley between the hills,” pointing to the north–west. “Atto was with him; they knew the iron hoof of Olitipa’s horse; they found this scrap, torn from her dress by a bramble stretching across the path. Is my brother satisfied?”

As the chief spoke he held up before the council a shred of a silk kerchief, such as none, certainly, except she whom they sought, was likely to have worn in that region. Again a murmur of approbation ran through the assembly; and Reginald, vexed that his young friend should have been subjected to such a disappointment, looked towards him, in order to see whether he bore it with equanimity.

The countenance of Wingenund underwent not any change, save that a quiet smile lurked in the corner of his mouth, as he replied, “My brother and Atto are both known on the war–path; their feet are swift, and no lies are found on their lips; it must be true that they have seen the hoof–print of Olitipa’s horse; it is true that the piece of dress torn off by the bramble belonged to her. Very cunning are the Washashee wolves; they have tried to blind the eyes of the LenapÉ; they have made two paths; let my brother follow that which he has found and Wingenund the other; perhaps they joined beyond the mountain.”

“There is sense in what the lad proposes,” said Baptiste, who had listened attentively hitherto, without speaking, and who remembered the acuteness shown by Wingenund near the banks of the Ohio. “If he is sure that he has been on the Washashee trail, ’tis like enough they have divided, to throw us off the scent; they will come together again further north.”

Again War–Eagle mused in silence for a few minutes; then abruptly turning towards Reginald, he inquired, “What is the thought of Netis?”

“I think,” replied the latter, “that Wingenund would never have spoken as he has spoken, were it not that he felt assured of all that he said. I would venture my life, and what is now far dearer to me than my life, on the truth of his words.”

The youth looked gratefully at the speaker, and a smile of gratified pride stole over his eloquent countenance.

“It is enough,” said War–Eagle, with dignity, “let Wingenund go upon his path; he shall not go alone. Which path does my brother Netis choose? he has heard all that has been said?”

Reginald was sorely puzzled: on one side was the sagacious experience of the chief, added to the strong evidence afforded by the shred of silk; on the other, the confident assurance of a youth, of whose diffidence and acuteness he had seen so many proofs. While he was still hesitating, he saw the eyes of the latter fixed upon him with an earnest, imploring expression, that decided him at once.

“I will go with my young brother,” he said firmly; “Grande–HÂche, Ethelston, and six men shall go with us; War–Eagle, with the rest of the party, shall go on the large Washashee trail that he has struck. Let the chief say how we shall meet beyond the mountain, if either of the trails prove false.”

“It is good,” said War–Eagle; “Atto shall lead the warriors who go with my white brother, and before the third sun rises we will come together again, and talk of what we have seen.”

Having thus spoken, the chief waved his hand to intimate that the council was dissolved; and calling Wingenund and Atto aside, he gave them clear and rapid instructions as to the course to be pursued in case of the trails diverging to opposite quarters, and he established at the same time various signals, to be used in case of necessity.

Pierre and M. Perrot asked and obtained leave to join Reginald’s party; most of the horses, and all the spare baggage, followed that of War–Eagle, who led them off through the defile in the mountains before alluded to, while Wingenund led the way to the trail which he had discovered, with the light springy step of an antelope, and an expression of bright confidence on his countenance, which communicated a similar feeling to those who might otherwise have been disinclined to trust themselves to the guidance of a youth on his first war–path.

While these things were passing in the allied camp, the Osage named Toweno, who had, it may be remembered, been sent forward by MahÉga to reconnoitre, returned on the following morning to his chief, bringing him intelligence that the fires seen at a distance were those of a numerous band of Upsarokas: he had crept near enough to recognise them as such by their dress, the trappings of their horses, and other indications not to be mistaken. On receiving this information, MahÉga revolved in his mind various plans for gaining the good will of his dangerous neighbours, and of securing their alliance as a protection against any further hostilities that might yet be attempted by those in pursuit of his trail. As he had often before profited by the shrewd advice of his follower, so did he invite him now to give his opinion as to the best course to be adopted; and in order that the discussion might not be overheard, he walked slowly with Toweno down a glade which led towards the Crow camp.

They had not proceeded far, when they saw a fine bison–cow coming directly towards them: from her languid and crippled movement, it was evident that she was wounded; while from her struggles to get forward, it was equally clear that she was pursued. The Osages lost not a moment in crouching below the cover of a thick bush; and scarcely had they done so, when a mounted Indian appeared, urging his tired horse up the glade after the wounded cow. It happened that she fell, unable to proceed further, not many yards from the spot where MahÉga was concealed; and her pursuer slackening his pace, approached leisurely; and having shot another arrow into her side, despatched her with the long knife which hung at his belt.

He was a tall, fine–looking man, in the prime of life, with remarkably high cheek bones, an aquiline nose, and a mass of long hair, gathered or clubbed at the back of his head; his hunting–shirt and leggings denoted by their ornaments a warrior of rank in his tribe, and his whole appearance and bearing were indicative of habitual authority.

The little steed which had borne him, and which in truth would have been termed among white men a pony, stood panting beside its master, whose weight seemed entirely disproportioned to its size and strength; and the Crow hunter now stooped over the bison–cow, examining her condition and her fat with the attention of a practised Indian gourmand.

Meanwhile, half a minute sufficed for MahÉga to explain his intentions in a whisper to his follower, and less than half a minute sufficed to carry them into execution. Rushing together upon the Crow while he was stooping with his back towards them, they seized and pinioned him before he had time to catch up his knife or to offer the least resistance. Never was there an attack more unexpected, nor a victory more easily obtained; and the discomfited Crow looked upon his two captors with an astonishment that he could not conceal. Their dress and tribe were altogether strange to him; and the scouts around the camp having brought in no report of any suspicious appearance or trail having been discovered, it could not be wondered at if he imagined that they must have pounced upon him from the clouds.

As soon as MahÉga had assured himself that the hands of the prisoner were securely tied, he led him towards a spot more sheltered from observation, Toweno following with the horse; and if the Crow felt at first any uneasiness respecting their intentions towards him, it must have been soon dispelled, as the Osage chief assured him, in the language of signs, that no harm was intended to him, and that he would soon be at liberty.

After a short consultation with Toweno, the chief determined to conduct the prisoner to his camp, on reaching which his arms were unbound, and he was courteously invited to take a seat by his captors. The Crow obeyed without any apparent reluctance, having satisfied himself by a hasty glance around that he was watched by several well–armed men, and that any attempt at escape or resistance must be for the present hopeless of success.

The pipe of peace having been smoked between the Osage and his prisoner, some meat and cakes were placed before the latter, of which he partook without hesitation; but he could not resist casting sundry curious glances at the white tent, wondering what it might contain; he observed also the numerous packs and bales scattered around, and thought within himself that, whatever might be his own fate, many of these would ere long fall into the hands of his tribe.

As soon as he had finished his meal, MahÉga resumed the conversation in the language of signs, explained to him that he wished to become friends with the Upsaroka; that he had come from very far with few followers, having fought with the Pale–faces; that the tent was Great Medicine, and contained that which brought wealth and good things to friends, but terror and misfortunes to enemies.

It may be supposed that the Upsaroka did not, in his present circumstances, regret these peaceful overtures; on the contrary, he bound himself by the most solemn promises to do every thing in his power towards establishing friendship between their respective tribes, and he gave MahÉga to understand by his gestures that he was not without authority among the Crows.[62]

Upon receiving this assurance the Osage chief suffered his prisoner to depart, restoring to him his horse, and presenting him with several trinkets in token of friendship.

The first use which the latter made of his recovered liberty was to invite MahÉga to return with him to the Upsaroka village, an invitation which, to the surprise of his followers, he accepted without hesitation.

With a parting caution to Toweno to keep his men watchful and ready against a surprise, he threw a battle–robe[63] over his broad shoulders, and, armed with his rifle, tomahawk, and knife, accompanied his new ally towards the Crow village.

On approaching it, he found that it consisted of more than a hundred lodges, containing, probably, two hundred men, besides women and children.

Great was their surprise when they saw the gigantic stranger advancing with his conductor towards the lodge of the principal chief, to whom he was nearly related.

The mien and bearing of the Osage, as he entered the lodge, were alone sufficient to secure for him a courteous invitation to sit in the place of honour; while the Crow who had been his prisoner briefly narrated to the head chief the circumstances under which the stranger visited his camp.

The pipe of friendship having been smoked in due form, the Crow chief whispered a few words in the ear of a youth beside him, who disappeared immediately, and the party sat in silence until he returned, accompanied by an individual whose appearance was singular in the extreme: his head was of an enormous size, and covered with black shaggy hair; his features were coarse and forbidding, nor was their expression improved by a patch of leather plastered over the cavity which had once been occupied by his left eye; his shoulders were broad, and his arms of unusual length; his stature was scarcely five feet, and his legs were bandy, with clumsy knees, like those of a buffalo–bull: this unsightly ogre rejoiced in the name of Besha–ro–Kata, signifying, in the Crow language, “the little bison,” but he was commonly called “Besha,” or the “Bison,” the diminutive termination being omitted.

His origin was involved in a mystery that neither he nor any one else could satisfactorily explain, for he had been born in that wild region watered by the Arkansas, and his mother, a Comanche woman, was said to have divided her favours, previous to the birth of Besha, between a half–bred trader to Santa FÉ, and a runaway negro from one of the southern slave–states; she died while he was yet an infant; and as he had never been owned or claimed by either of his reputed fathers, it was a miracle that he ever lived to manhood.

In his early years he hovered about the hunting parties of Osages, Comanches, Pani–picas, and other tribes, who frequented the region where he had been left to shift for himself, and at other seasons none knew whether he lived upon roots, berries, and honey, or wandered to tribes yet more remote from his birth–place. He was never known, either in summer or winter, to wear any other dress than a bison–skin with the hair outwards, in the centre of which he cut a hole, and passing his head through the aperture, wore this uncouth skin like the Poncha of the Mexicans. From these early rambling habits, he had picked up a smattering of many Indian dialects, and of these the Osage was one with which he was the most familiar; he enjoyed a high reputation among the Crows, not only from his being often useful as an interpreter, but because he was, without exception, the most skilful horse–stealer in the whole region between the Arkansas and the mountains. He was also deeply versed in the knowledge of all the properties of plants, roots, and herbs, so much so, that, unless fame wronged him, more than one of his enemies had died by the agency of subtle poison. Such was the personage who, fixing his single cunning eye upon MahÉga, inquired, on the part of the Crows, his object in paying them a visit. The conversation, rendered into English, was in substance as follows:—

Besha. “Has the Washashee come to hunt and trap among the Stony Mountains?”

MahÉga. “He has not; he has come towards the setting sun, because the enemies on his path were too many for him—he wished for peace.”

B. “Has the Washashee a name in his tribe?”

M. “He has a name; when the war–post is struck, MahÉga is not silent,” said the chief, haughtily.

B. “MahÉga!” repeated the horse–stealer, to whom the name was evidently not unknown. “MahÉga, the Red–hand!—does he wander so far from his village?”

M. “He wanders, but there is Great Medicine in his lodge; blood has been on his path, and his enemies do not laugh.”

B. “Whom are the men with whom MahÉga has dug up the hatchet?”

M. “Pale–faces, and cowardly red–skins, who are their friends.”

When this reply was translated, a great sensation was visible among the Crows, several of whom whispered together. After receiving a few instructions from the chief, Besha proceeded with his inquiry.

B. “Are the Pale–faces on the trail of MahÉga?”

M. “They are.”

B. “How many?”

M. “MahÉga does not know.”

B. “Is there a pale–faced warrior with them,—young and tall, riding a dark horse, very swift and strong?”

M. “There is,” said the Osage, astonished in his turn at hearing Reginald thus accurately described by the interpreter.

Again there was a murmur, and consultation among the Crows, after which Besha thus proceeded:

“What is the wish of MahÉga? the Upsaroka ears are open.”

M. “He wishes to make friends with them, to join his strength to theirs, to drive these Pale–face thieves out of the Crow country. MahÉga’s warriors are few, but they are not squaws; his hands are not empty; he has presents for the chiefs, and he will not forget the interpreter.” He added, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, “He has many things, enough to make the tribe rich, hid in a cave far to the south; if the Crow will be his brother, he shall find that MahÉga has an open hand.”

The cunning chief was aware of the thieving propensities of the Upsaroka, and he purposely threw out this last hint that they might be induced to spare his baggage, in the hope of ultimately possessing themselves of the more important treasure in his “cÂche.” Nor was his stratagem without effect, for the discovery and possession of the contents of that cÂche became forthwith the principal object of the Crow chief; and the readiest mode of attaining it was to make friends with the party who could alone guide him to it.

Fortune had in this instance been more propitious to MahÉga than he deserved; for, as the reader has probably conjectured, he had fallen in with that very Upsaroka band, a detachment of which had been so roughly handled a few days before by Reginald Brandon and the Delawares under his command.

The high contracting parties being thus united by the strong ties of avarice, and revenge against a common enemy, an offensive and defensive alliance was entered into immediately. MahÉga soon discovered the motive which impelled his new friends so strongly to espouse his cause, and was thereby satisfied that, for the present at least, he might trust them. Before nightfall, the white tent of Prairie–bird was pitched at the edge of the Upsaroka camp, and the Osages took up their quarters around it, so that none could leave or enter it unperceived by them.

Early on the following morning MahÉga received a visit from the Crow chief, who, accompanied by Besha, came ostensibly to show him courtesy, but in reality to inspect his packages, horses, men, and equipments; and, if possible, to solve the mystery of the Great Medicine in the white tent. The Osage warriors, strong, weather–beaten men, every one provided with a rifle in addition to the usual arms of an Indian, had no reason to fear the scrutinising eye of the Crow; indeed, the latter began already to calculate how he might best avail himself of their aid in an expedition which he meditated against his hereditary enemies the Black Feet.

After the pipe had been smoked, and food set before his guests, MahÉga desired one of the smaller packages to be opened, from which he selected a blanket, and spreading upon it various beads and trinkets, presented the whole, in token of friendship, to the Upsaroka chief, who seemed highly delighted with the gift.

His expressions of gratitude, conveyed through Besha, were unbounded. He did not, however, think it requisite to express, at the same time, his vehement desire to become the possessor of all the goods and chattels belonging to the Osage; neither did the latter forget to propitiate the interpreter, whom he presented with a knife and ornamented sheath, both of which were graciously accepted.

The Crow was resolved not to leave the spot until he had solved the enigma of the mysterious tent; and finding that his guest still kept silence on the subject, he directed Besha to use his best exertions towards the gratification of his curiosity. An opportunity being afforded by the appearance of Lita, who went out to draw some water from the stream, the interpreter inquired whether that woman was the “Great Medicine” of which he had spoken.

MahÉga, who was desirous of impressing the Crows with a due respect for Prairie–bird, shook his head, replying, “That is the slave of the Great Medicine.”

Besha. “Is the Great Medicine a chief—a wise man?”

MahÉga. “No: it is in the form of a woman; but its power is very great. It talks with the Great Spirit, and the Wahconda[64] listens to its speech!”

Besha. “Many are the medicine–men who talk with the Great Spirit; they see dreams, and give counsel to the warriors and chiefs; there is no new Medicine here.”

“My brother speaks truth,” said Osage, smiling scornfully. “But if the medicine–men of the Upsaroka call to the sun, will he come out of his path, or hide his face at their words?”

Having thus spoken, MahÉga lowered his voice, as if afraid of being overheard by the mysterious tenant of the tent, and related to the wondering Besha the circumstances attending the late eclipse.

The interpreter having given the explanation to his chief, they looked at each other in speechless astonishment; for not only was there an air of truth in the statement of MahÉga, but the Crows having themselves observed the mystery of the darkened sun, were thereby led to listen with believing awe to the wonderful disclosure made by the Osage.

Perceiving his advantage, the latter again relapsed into silence, which was broken, after a few minutes, by the interpreter, who inquired, on the part of his chief, whether the Great Medicine of the tent would receive a present from him. To this the cautious Osage replied, that the daughter of the Unknown cared not for the things belonging to other women; but that her smile and her good words would bring prosperity to those with whom she dwelt, while her curse would ensure their destruction; on which account it would not do any harm if the Upsaroka were to offer a present to her Medicine.

The latter now finding that, during this visit at least, his curiosity would not be gratified by a sight of the mysterious dweller in the tent, arose, and took a courteous leave of the Osage chief, who remained for some time ruminating abstractedly over his future plans, and the probability of their ultimate success.

Scarcely half an hour had elapsed ere Besha returned, accompanied by two young Indians, one of whom led a wild horse, which he presented on the part of his chief to MahÉga; and the other was the bearer of a large package of beaver–skins of the finest quality, which he laid down at the door of the tent, and retired, casting back uneasy glances, apparently relieved at having safely executed a commission fraught with danger.

MahÉga presented each of the youths with a handsome knife, and Besha with a mirror, wherein he contemplated his cyclopean countenance with undisguised satisfaction; so long, indeed, did he continue this admiring self–inspection, that the two young Crows left him engaged in it, and returned to their quarters.

They had not been long gone before the interpreter commenced a confidential conversation with the Osage chief, during which each endeavoured, with little success on either side, to overreach the other: at the same time, the conference was not without its satisfactory issue to both parties; for MahÉga ascertained that the Crows viewed the mixed band of Whites and Delawares with feelings as hostile as his own, and that they were as deeply impressed as he could desire with awe for the mysterious powers of Prairie–bird. On the other hand, Besha satisfied himself that his own services would be almost indispensable to the Osage, and that the latter was neither unwilling nor unable to reward them liberally; so that after a complimentary conversation of some length, these two rogues parted, with many expressions of mutual regard and esteem.

Scarcely was the interpreter out of sight, when MahÉga sprung from the ground to examine more closely the steed presented to him by the Crow chief. It was a strong, high–mettled bay colt, untamed, and almost untameable; if the truth must be told, the latter had given it to his guest because neither he nor any of his warriors could subdue its violent and vicious spirit, although the Crows are renowned among the Indian nations as bold and expert horsemen.

On whatever side MahÉga endeavoured to approach to mount it, the horse struck fiercely at him, using both hind and fore feet with equal rapidity; but the Osage, penetrating at once the motives of the Crow’s liberality, smiled in disdain of the shallow trick, and, seizing his opportunity, threw himself upon the wild, unsaddled animal, despite of whose furious plunging and resistance, he sat unmoved like a centaur; and plying his whip and heel with unmitigated severity, compelled it to gallop at full speed over the prairie, until he thought fit to bring it back to the camp, wearied, breathless, and subdued. Then throwing the halter to one of his men, he quietly resumed his pipe, leaving the Crow chief and his people to draw their own conclusions from what they had seen.