MAHÉGA IS FOUND IN STRANGE COMPANY, AND WINGENUND DEFERS, ON ACCOUNT OF MORE IMPORTANT CONCERNS, HIS PLAN FOR THE LIBERATION OF HIS FRIENDS.—A COUNCIL, A COMBAT, AND A SKIRMISH, IN WHICH LAST THE CROWS RECEIVE ASSISTANCE FROM A QUARTER WHENCE THEY LEAST EXPECTED IT.

We left Wingenund on his way to the Crow camp, revolving as he went various schemes for the deliverance of his friends. However slight was the faith which he was disposed to place in the honesty of Besha, he confidently believed that the horse–dealer’s self–interest would keep him true, at least for the time, to the party whence the greater rewards and presents might be expected. He knew also that Bending–willow was kindly disposed towards the prisoners, and would do all that was in her power towards engaging her impatient and hot–headed husband to favour their release. Nevertheless, the game to be played was a difficult one, especially as the consequence of any unsuccessful attempt might prove fatal to them as well as to himself.

So intent was the youth upon these meditations that he forgot the distance and the difficulties of his circuitous route, his light elastic step bearing him over hill and vale with a speed of which he was scarcely conscious, and long before the sun went down he found himself at the further extremity of the mountain pass, which has been before mentioned as leading into the valley where the Crows were encamped, from a quarter exactly opposite to that where his own friends were stationed.

As he was about to step across a small rivulet that trickled from the rocks above, lending a greener freshness to the narrow strip of grass through which it flowed, his attention was arrested by a recent footmark upon its margin. Starting with surprise, he stooped to examine it more carefully, it was plain and distinct, so that a less sagacious eye than his might have traced its form and dimensions. A single look satisfied him, and as he rose from his scrutiny, the name of MahÉga escaped from his lips.

Without a moment’s hesitation he resolved to follow the trail of the Osage, and observe his movements, conjecturing that these probably boded no good to the Delaware party, although he felt at some loss to imagine what object could lead him to a quarter almost immediately opposite to that where they were encamped.

The task which Wingenund had now undertaken was not an easy one, for the ground was hard and barren, and the short grass partly dried by the mountain winds and partly burnt by the summer sun, scarcely received any impression from the pressure of a foot, and the youth was compelled to pause so frequently in order to examine the scarcely perceptible marks of the trail, that his progress was far from being so rapid as he could have wished. Nevertheless he toiled perseveringly forward, his hopes being every now and then refreshed by finding on the descent of the steep hill–side an indication of the Osage’s tread that he could not mistake.

Wingenund had followed the trail for several hours, when he caught a distant view of a slight column of smoke rising from a dell, the bottom of which was concealed by intervening heights. One of these, more rugged and lofty than the rest, lay at his right hand, and he climbed with some difficulty to the top of it, in hopes of being able thence to descry the spot whence the smoke arose. Neither was he disappointed in this expectation, for on reaching the height, he could see into the deep bosom of the mountain glen, where he clearly discerned a large body of men and horses, assembled round a fire; carefully noting the nature of the intervening ground, he redescended the hill, and again threw himself upon the trail of the Osage, which continued, as he expected, to lead him in the direction of the unknown band.

As he advanced he felt the necessity of using the greatest caution lest he should inadvertently come within sight of any scouts or stragglers from the valley below; but fortune and his own skill so far favoured his approach, that he reached unperceived a point whence he could more clearly see the circle assembled round the fire, and could distinguish the horses and the men sufficiently to ascertain that they belonged to some mountain tribe bent on a war excursion, as they had with them neither their women nor their lodges. With awakened curiosity and interest, the youth now crept to a spot at a little distance, where a confused pile of huge stones, here and there overgrown with stunted shrubs, offered a sheltered retreat, whence, without being himself seen, he could observe all that passed below. In making his way to the place he was somewhat surprised to find what might almost be called a beaten path, upon which the recent tracks of men and horses, as well as of bison, were clearly discernible.

He had scarcely time to conceal himself, when he perceived two men coming directly towards his hiding–place, in one of whom he recognised the Osage chief, while the other belonged apparently to some tribe of Indians that he had never seen before. They came slowly up the path before–mentioned, stopping almost at every step, and conversing in the language of signs, by which means their expressions of mutual friendship were as intelligible to the quick–witted youth as they were to each other. The stranger was a fine–looking Indian, and though lower in stature than his gigantic companion, had the appearance of great muscular strength, and his dress betokened, according to Indian notions of magnificence, a chief of high degree. His black hair was clubbed behind his head, and fastened with several painted feathers bound with fillets of ermine; his hunting–shirt was of the skin of the mountain goat, and both it and his deer–skin leggins were ornamented with porcupine–quills, and fringed with the scalp–locks of enemies slain in battle; he carried in his hand a long lance, also decorated with scalp–locks, and at his back hung a quiver made from the skin of the panther, in which bristled a score of arrows beautifully tipped with sharp flint, and attached to it by a leather thong was a bow so short that it looked more like the plaything of a boy than the deadly weapon of a warrior.

Wingenund wondered to what tribe the stranger might belong; and as the two Indians seated themselves upon a fragment of rock only a few yards from the recess in which he was ensconced, he trusted that some signal would pass by which his curiosity might be afterwards satisfied; at all events, it seemed clear that they were already upon the best terms with each other, for they smiled and grinned, each placing a hand upon the heart of the other, after which MahÉga extended his arms like a flying bird, and then passed his right hand with a rapid movement round his own scalp; from which sign the youth instantly knew that their plot was to attack and kill the Upsarokas.

“Double–tongued, cowardly snake!” said Wingenund to himself, “he made a league with the Dahcotahs to destroy his LenapÉ friends, and now he makes one with a stranger tribe to destroy those with whom he eats and smokes.”

That the youth rightly conjectured the object of the interview he could no longer doubt, when MahÉga, pointing directly to the valley where the Crows were encamped, repeated again the signals for attack and slaughter. Not a word passed during this time, excepting when the stranger drew from under his hunting–shirt a small whistle, made apparently either from a bone or a reed, and quaintly ornamented with stained quills and the down from the breast of some mountain bird; having applied this to his lips, he drew from it a peculiar sound, not remarkable for its shrillness, but different from any tone that Wingenund remembered to have heard before.

After two or three attempts MahÉga succeeded in sounding it correctly; and nodding intelligently to the stranger, concealed it carefully in his belt; they then exchanged the names or war–cry, by which they were to recognise each other, MahÉga teaching his new friend to say “Washashee,” and learning in return to pronounce “Ka–in–na,” which he repeated three or four times so distinctly that Wingenund caught and remembered it. These preparatory civilities having passed, they proceeded to the interchange of presents, by which their alliance was to be cemented.

MahÉga drew from his girdle a pistol, which he gave, together with a small leather pouch containing lead and powder, to the stranger chief, who received it with an air so puzzled and mysterious, that MahÉga could scarcely refrain from smiling. He turned the pistol over and over, looking down the barrel, and examining the lock with a curiosity that he cared not to conceal; he pointed it, however, towards a mark in an adjoining rock, and made a sound with his lips, which was intended to imitate its report, repeating at the same time the word “sachsi–nama,” as if to show that the name and use of the weapon were not strange to him, although he might never have seen one before. MahÉga then proceeded to show him how to use it, making signs that with it he might kill all his enemies; and upon the stranger expressing a wish to see an instance of its power, he placed a thin flat stone at the distance of a few yards, and split it in two at the first shot; after which he reloaded it, showing at the same time the use of the priming–pan and trigger.

It was not without a look of gratified pride that he placed the pistol in his belt, repeating again and again, “sachsi–nama,” “nahtovi–nama.” He then unslung the short bow that hung at his back, and presented it, with the panther–skin quiver full of arrows, to the Osage chief, who received the gift with every appearance of satisfaction, and they parted, the former returning towards the encampment of his tribe, after he had told MahÉga that the name of the bow was “nutsi–nÂma.”[84]

For some time after the departure of his new ally, the Osage remained upon his seat examining the bow, which at first sight he had considered a mere toy, but which he found, to his astonishment, required all his force to draw it to its full power. Being formed of bone, strengthened throughout with sinew, it was stiff and elastic to an extraordinary degree; and although not more than three feet in length, would drive an arrow as far as an ordinary six–feet bow.

When he had sufficiently examined his new acquisition, it occurred to the chief that he could not, without risk of detection, carry it into the Crow camp. He resolved, therefore, to hide it in a dry cleft of the rock, and take it out again after the issue of his plot should be decided.

This resolution threatened to bring about an unexpected catastrophe, as it happened that he approached the very recess in which Wingenund was stationed. Drawing the knife from his belt, the youth stood in the inmost corner of the cavern, ready, as soon as discovery became inevitable, to spring upon his powerful enemy; but fate had otherwise decreed, and the Osage passed on to a higher and narrower cleft, where he deposited the quiver and the bow, carefully closing the aperture with moss and lichen.

It was not until he had gone some distance on his homeward way, that Wingenund emerged from his hiding–place, and having possessed himself of the quiver and bow, returned slowly upon the Osage’s trail towards the Upsaroka camp, proving as he went the surprising strength of the weapon, and admiring the straightness and beauty of the war–arrows with which the quiver was supplied.[85]

Following unperceived, and at some distance, the steps of the Osage, he found that the latter took a shorter, though a somewhat steeper and more rugged way than that by which he had come, so that very little more than two hours of brisk walking brought him within sight of the watch–fires of the Upsaroka camp, just as day closed, and their light began to shine more brightly through the valley. Availing himself of the shelter of a stunted pine, the youth lay down for some time, and did not re–enter the camp until late at night, when he made his way without interruption to Besha’s tent, giving to the outposts by whom he was challenged, the countersign taught him by the horse–dealer.

On the following morning before sunrise, Besha was aroused by Wingenund, who told him that he had news of great importance to communicate to the Crow chiefs, and that no time should be lost before they were summoned to council. The horse–dealer rubbed his eyes as he wakened by degrees and listened to this intelligence, which he suspected at first to be some trick on the part of the youth for the liberation of his friends; but there was an earnest simplicity in his manner that carried conviction with it; and Besha endeavoured, as he threw on his hunting–shirt, and fastened his belt, to learn from the youth the nature and purport of his intelligence. The latter seemed, however, to be in no very communicative mood; he merely replied; “Wingenund speaks not the Upsaroka tongue; let Besha repeat to the council word after word what he hears, that will be enough; he will serve both the Crows and the Delawares, and will obtain thanks and presents from both. Let MahÉga, too, be called to attend the council.”

The horse–dealer having departed upon his errand, Wingenund found an opportunity to detail briefly to Paul MÜller and Ethelston the discovery that he had made on the preceding evening; but it may well be imagined that he could obtain from neither any information respecting the mountain tribe with whom the Osage was carrying on his treacherous intrigue.

“Let my son boldly speak the truth,” said the missionary, “and leave the result to God.”

“Wingenund never told a lie,” replied the young Delaware; and the bright, fearless expression of his countenance warranted the proud assertion.

“How many are there in our crowded cities and churches,” said the missionary, looking after the youth as he re–entered the horse–dealer’s lodge, “who dare echo that speech? yet methinks, as far as memory and conscience serve him, he has said no more than the truth. I have known him from his childhood, and believe him to be as much a stranger to falsehood as to fear.”

“They are cousins–german, my worthy friend,” said Ethelston, “and generally dwell together! I wonder not at the affection which Reginald bears to that youth; nature has stamped upon his countenance all the high and generous qualities that endear man to his brother. Let us endeavour to be present at the council which is now assembling; we have been such quiet prisoners that perhaps our guards will allow us to be spectators on this occasion.”

Besha happening to pass at this moment, obtained for them the desired permission, which was the more readily granted that the Crow sentries themselves were desirous of seeing what was going forward, and knew that no danger could be apprehended from the two unarmed captives. The spectacle that met their view when they issued from the lodge was striking and picturesque; runners had been sent throughout the camp, and all the principal chiefs, braves, and medicine–men were already assembled in a semicircle, the concave centre of which was formed by the lodge of White–Bull and his father, the latter of whom had put on for the occasion a magnificent head–dress of painted eagle–feathers which betokened his rank as head–chief of the band. The horse–dealer stood in front of his own lodge to the left, and frequent were the glances directed to him from all quarters, it having been generally understood that the council was summoned to consider matters brought forward by him. Behind him stood Wingenund, wrapped in a loose blanket, which partially concealed his features and covered entirely the rest of his person; on the opposite wing of the circle, and at a distance of twenty–five or thirty yards, stood MahÉga, his gigantic stature shown off to the best advantage by the warlike dress which he had put on complete for the solemn occasion, his neck and arms being covered with beads of various colours, and his fingers playing unconsciously with the weighty iron–pointed mace or war–club which had slain so many of those whose scalp–locks now fringed his leathern shirt and hose. The warriors and other Indians of inferior degree stood in the background, and some, anxious to get a better view of what was going forward, had perched themselves upon the adjoining rocks and cliffs, where their dusky forms, dimly seen through the mists which were now vanishing before the beams of the rising sun, gave a wild and picturesque effect to the scene.

Nearly half an hour was consumed by the soothsayers or medicine–men in going through their formal mummeries to ascertain whether the hour and the occasion were favourable for the proposed business, and it was not until the medicine–pipe had been passed round, and the chief functionary had turned gravely to the north, south, east, and west, blowing to each quarter successively a whiff of medicine–smoke, that he gave his permission for the council to proceed with its deliberations.

During all this time a profound silence reigned throughout the camp, the women suspending their scolding, chattering, and domestic avocations, and even the children peeping, half frightened, from behind their mothers, or stealing away to some spot where they might laugh and play without fear of being whipped for disturbing the solemnities.

The venerable father of White–Bull now returned the great pipe to the medicine–men, saying, in a voice distinctly audible throughout the circle: “Besha has called the chiefs and braves of the Upsaroka together; they are come—their ears are open—let the one–eyed man who brings horses from the far prairies, speak with a single tongue.”

Thus called upon, the horse–dealer stepped forward, saying: “Besha is neither wise in council, nor a chief among warriors; he has travelled far among the eastern tribes, and he knows their tongues; he stands here to give out of his mouth what goes in at his ear. Let the Upsaroka warriors listen; they are not fools, they will soon know if lies are told to them. Let them look at this youth; his blanket is that of Besha’s slave; he is not what he seems; he is a son of the LenapÉ, a friend of the Whites; yet he is come alone into the camp to show to the Upsaroka that a snake is crawling among their lodges.”

A murmur ran through the assembly as Besha pronounced these words, and pointed to Wingenund, who, throwing the blanket into the hollow of his left arm, advanced to the front, and with a slight inclination to the old chief, awaited his permission to proceed.

The youth, the graceful form, the open countenance, and the dignified bearing of Wingenund, as he stood forward in the assembled circle, prepossessed the Crows strongly in his favour, and they awaited with excited curiosity the intelligence that he had to communicate; but their chief did not appear disposed to gratify their impatience, for after whispering a few words to a messenger who stood beside him, he relapsed into silence, scanning with a fixed gaze the countenance of the young Delaware. The latter bore the scrutiny with modest, yet undisturbed composure, and not a voice was raised in the council until the return of the messenger, conducting a Crow doctor or conjuror, somewhat advanced in years, who took his station by the chief, and gave a silent assent to the whispered orders that he received.

It may well be imagined with what mingled feelings of surprise and indignation the haughty Osage beheld the young Delaware thus standing forward in the midst of the council–circle; that his presence boded no good to himself he well knew; but how and wherefore he came, and why he, belonging as he did to a hostile band, was thus permitted to appear before the assembly of Crow warriors, he was quite at a loss to understand. His suspense, however, was not destined to be of long duration, for as soon as Besha, in obedience to a signal from the chief, had desired Wingenund to speak what he had to say, the youth came another step forward, and said in a clear voice—

“There is a snake among the lodges of the Upsaroka; a hidden snake, that will bite before its rattle is heard.”

The Crows looked from one to the other as Besha translated this sentence, and the old conjuror gave a slight nod to the chief, indicating that the youth’s meaning was rightly given. It may be as well to inform the reader that the said conjuror had in early life been taken prisoner by the Pawnees, with a party of whom he had been conveyed to a great council held with the Indian agents at St. Charles’s, in Missouri, respecting the cession and appropriation of territory. Several of the western Delawares had been present at this meeting, which was protracted for many weeks, and the Crow prisoner had picked up a smattering of their tongue, which, however slight it might be, had occasioned him to be sent for on this occasion to check any propensity for untruth that might be entertained by the horse–dealer. Whether the latter was influenced by these, or by other motives, he rendered faithfully the conversation that ensued, and therefore it is not necessary to notice further the part played by the interpreter.

“Who is it that speaks?” demanded the old chief, with dignity: “the Crows open not their ears to the idle words of strangers.”

“Then let them shut their ears,” replied the youth, boldly. “Before another sun has set they will wish they had listened to the words of Wingenund!”

“Who is Wingenund? Is he not an enemy? have not his people shed Upsaroka blood? why, then, should they believe his words?”

“Wingenund is the son of a LenapÉ chief. For a thousand summers his fathers have hunted over forest and plain beyond the Great River. Wingenund has heard of their deeds, and he will not stain his lips with a lie. The LenapÉ have taken Crow scalps in defence of their own, Wingenund will not deny it; but he came here to serve his white friends, not to hurt the Upsaroka.”

On hearing this bold reply, White–bull bent his brow fiercely upon the speaker; but the youth met his eye with a look of bright untroubled confidence, while he quietly awaited the chief’s further interrogation.

“Let the son of the LenapÉ speak, but let him beware,—if his tongue is forked, the Upsaroka knives will cut it out from his head.”

“Wingenund is not a woman, that he should be frightened with big words; when he speaks, the truth comes from his lips; and if he chooses to be silent, the Upsaroka knives cannot make him speak,” replied the youth, with a look of lofty scorn.

“Is it so?—we shall see,” cried White–bull, springing forward, at the same time drawing his knife, with which he struck full at the naked breast of the youth. Not a muscle moved in the form or countenance of Wingenund; his eye remained steadily fixed on that of the Crow, and he did not even raise in his defence the arm over which his blanket was suspended. Nothing could have saved him from instant death, had not White–bull himself arrested the blow just as it was falling, so that the point of the knife scratched, but did not penetrate the skin. Wingenund smiled, and the Crow warrior, partly ashamed of his own ebullition of temper, and partly in admiration of the cool courage of the young Delaware, said to his father, “Let him speak: there are no lies upon his tongue.”

The old man looked for a moment sternly at his son, as if he would have reproved him for his violence, in interrupting the business of the council, but apparently he thought it better to let it pass; and, turning towards Wingenund, he said, in a milder tone than he had yet used, “Let the young stranger speak if he will, his words will not be blown away; if he has seen a snake, let him show it, and the chiefs of the Upsaroka will owe him a debt.”

Thus appealed to, Wingenund, slowly raising the forefinger of his right hand, pointed it full upon MahÉga, saying, in a loud voice, “There is the snake! Fed by the hand of the Upsaroka, clad in their gifts, warmed by their fire, he now tries to bite them, and give them over to their enemies, even as his black heart and forked tongue have before destroyed those whom he called brothers.”

It is beyond the power of words to paint the rage of the conscious Osage, on hearing this charge: he concealed it, however, by a strong effort, under a show of just indignation, exclaiming aloud, “The Upsaroka warriors are not fools, that they should believe the idle words of a stranger boy, a spy, who stole into their camp by night, and now tickles their ears with lies.”

“The young LenapÉ must tell more,” said the old chief, gravely, “before the Upsaroka can believe bad things of a warrior who has smoked and fought with them, and has taken the scalps of their enemies.”

Thus called upon, Wingenund proceeded to relate distinctly the circumstances narrated in the last chapter. His tale was so clearly told, his description of the locality so accurate, that the attention of the whole council was riveted, and they listened with the most profound attention. A cloud gathered upon the brow of White–bull, and the gigantic frame of MahÉga swelled with a tempest of suppressed passion. Independently of the dangers that now threatened him, his proud spirit chafed at the thought of being thus tracked, discovered, exposed, and disgraced by a boy; and his fury was heightened by observing the bright eye of the Delaware youth fixed upon him with a steady searching gaze, indicative at once of conscious truth and triumph. Still he resolved to hold out to the last; he trusted that after the great services he had rendered in battle to the Crows, they would at least believe his word, before that of an unknown youth, who came amongst them under such suspicious circumstances. These reflections passing rapidly through his mind, restored his disturbed self–possession, and enabled him to curl his haughty features into an expression of sneering contempt.

Great was the excitement among the Crows, as Wingenund described, with unerring minuteness and accuracy, the dress and equipments of the stranger with whom MahÉga had held the interview; and there was dead silence in the council when the interpreter was ordered to inquire whether he knew to what tribe the strange Indian belonged.

“Wingenund knows not,” he replied; “but he heard the name that was taught to the Osage, as the battle–cry of his new allies.”

“E–chi–peta!” shouted the impetuous White–bull, who had already recognised in the youth’s description one of the warriors of the Black–feet, the hereditary enemies of his tribe.

“It was not so,” replied Wingenund gravely. “Ka–in–na[86] was the name; it was twice spoken.”

A deep murmur ran round the assembly, White–bull exchanged a significant glance with the nearest of his braves, and again a profound silence reigned throughout the assembly.

MahÉga now felt that the crisis of his fate was at hand, and that every thing must depend on his being able to throw discredit on the tale of Wingenund. This was not, however, an easy task, for he suspected Besha of a secret leaning to the Delaware side, while the fierce and lowering looks of the bystanders showed him how little was wanting to make the smothered flame burst forth.

These indications did not escape the aged chief, who spoke a few words in a serious and warning tone, the purport of which was to remind them that the present council was sacred to the Medicine, and was not to be desecrated by any violence or shedding of blood. He concluded by saying, “Let the Washashee speak for himself, and let Besha give his words truly, if he does not wish to have his ears cut off.”

Thus admonished, the horse–dealer lent all his attention to the Osage, who came forward to address the council with an imposing dignity of manner that almost made the most suspicious of his hearers doubt the truth of the accusations brought against him.

Being now in front of the semicircle, which was not more than twenty yards in width, he was directly opposite to Wingenund, who stood forward a few feet in advance of its other wing. The contrast offered by the stature and bearing of the accuser and the accused, the slight active frame, the youth and grace of the one, and the haughty air and gigantic bulk of the other, struck Ethelston so forcibly that he could not forbear whispering to Paul MÜller, “Worthy father, does not the scene recall to mind the meeting between the Hebrew shepherd and the giant of Gath?”

“It does, my son; and I misjudge the looks of the Osage if they part hence without the shedding of blood. I have long studied his countenance, and, however skilfully he has subdued its expression, I can trace the full storm of passions raging within his breast.”

Further discourse was prevented by the commencement of the Osage’s speech, which he delivered with a tone and gesture of indignation, suitable to one who declared himself injured and belied.

He began by recapitulating the services that he had rendered to the Crows, the faithful warriors that he had lost in their cause, and their valuable presents concealed in the cÂche, to which he was even now conducting them; on the other hand, he painted the injuries they had received from the LenapÉ, who had come into their country in league with the white–skins, the bane of their tribe and race, that their hands were still wet with Upsaroka blood; and “whose is the forked tongue,” said he, “that is to cover with lies and dirt the fame of the great chief of the Washashee, the sworn brother of the Upsaroka?—Who but a boy, a stranger, a liar, and a spy, telling his idle dreams to the council to break the friendship of warriors whom his cowardly tribe, and their pale–faced allies, dared not meet in the field!”

During the whole of this tirade, which was delivered with much vehemence and gesticulation, Wingenund stood motionless as a statue, his calm eye fixed upon the excited countenance of his opponent with an undisguised expression of contempt.

Receiving no reply, MahÉga continued: “Chiefs and brothers, you are wise in council—men of experience; your ears will not be tickled with the idle songs of this false–tongued singing–bird; a messenger who brings such news to the great council of the Upsaroka—who tells them that their brother who has fought by their side, and smoked at their fire, is a forked snake, he must bring something better able to convince them than the cunning words coming from his own lying lips!”

These words, supported by the commanding tone assumed by the Osage, were not without their effect upon the minds of that fierce and deeply–interested assemblage.

Wingenund waited until the speech of his antagonist had been translated to them, when he replied, with unmoved composure, “If the Crow warriors require better witness than words, it is not difficult to find; they have already been told that the Kainna stranger gave to MahÉga a present of a bow and arrows, which he hid in the rocks; Wingenund took them out, and here they are.”

As the youth spoke he dropped the blanket that had been thrown over his left arm and shoulder, holding up to the council the bow and arrows, which all present instantly recognised as being made and ornamented by the Black–feet.

“Are the warriors yet convinced,” continued the youth, raising his voice, “or do they wish for more? If they do, let them seize the Washashee wolf, they will find in his belt—“

He was not allowed to finish the sentence; the storm that had long been brooding, now burst in all its fury. MahÉga, driven to desperation by the damning evidence brought against him, and reckless of all save the gratification of his fierce revenge, whirled his iron–pointed mace around his head, and launched it with tremendous force at Wingenund.

Never had the latter, even for an instant, taken his falcon eye off the Osage; but so swift was the motion with which the weapon was thrown, that although he sprung lightly aside to avoid it, the spiked head grazed and laid open his cheek, whence it glanced off, and striking an unlucky Crow who stood behind him, felled him, with a broken arm, to the ground. Even in the act of stooping to escape the mace, Wingenund fitted an arrow into the Black–foot bow which he held in his hand; and rising quick as thought, let it fly at his gigantic adversary, with so true an aim, that it pierced the windpipe, and the point came out at the back of his neck, close to the spine. While the Osage, half strangled and paralysed, tugged ineffectually at the fatal shaft, Wingenund leaped upon him with the bound of a tiger, and uttering aloud the war–cry of the LenapÉ, buried his knife in the heart of his foe. With one convulsive groan the dying Osage fell heavily to the earth; and ere the bystanders had recovered from their astonishment, his blood–stained scalp hung at the belt of the victorious Delaware.

For a moment all was tumult and confusion; the few remaining Osages made a rush towards Wingenund to avenge the death of their chief, but they were instantly overpowered and secured with thongs of pliant bark, while White–bull sprang into the arena of combat, and in a voice of thunder shouted to his warriors to stand back and unstring their bows.

During the brief but decisive conflict the appearance of Wingenund was so much changed, that Ethelston declared to his friend afterwards that he should not have recognised him. The muscles of his active frame swelled with exertion, while the expanded nostril and flashing eye gave to his countenance an expression of fierce excitement, almost amounting to ferocity. Now that the struggle was over he resumed, without an effort, the habitual quiet gentleness of his demeanour, and turning to Besha, said, “Let the Upsaroka chiefs look below the belt of that dead wolf; perhaps they will find the signal whistle of the Kainna.”

The horse–dealer stooped; and searching, as he was directed, found a small leathern bag, on opening which there fell out, as Wingenund had said, the whistle of the Black–foot chief; a yell of indignation burst from the assembly, some of the nearest of whom vented their rage by bestowing sundry kicks upon the inanimate remains of the treacherous Osage.

Popularity is a plant that springs up as suddenly, and perishes as rapidly, among the tribes of the Western wilderness, as among the mobs of Paris or of London; and Wingenund, whose life would scarcely have been safe had he been found an hour earlier in the Crow camp, was now its hero and its idol. To say that the youth was not elated, would be to say that he was not human; for he had avenged the slaughter of his kindred, and had overcome the most powerful and renowned warrior in the Missouri plains, the fell destroyer of the race of Tamenund. But so well had he been trained in the school of self–command, that neither Ethelston, nor Paul MÜller who had known him from his childhood, could trace in his demeanour anything different from its usual quiet modesty; and they waited, with no little impatience, to see what results would ensue from this triumph in respect of their own release.

The Crow chiefs and warriors did not forget, in the excitement of the scene just described, the threatened attack to which the treachery of MahÉga had exposed them; and they now crowded round Wingenund, while White–bull put many questions to him, through Besha, respecting the position and apparent numbers of the Black–feet, to all of which he answered with a precision that increased the high opinion that they already entertained of his quickness and intelligence. White–bull even condescended so far as to explain to him his own projects for withdrawing his band from the neighbourhood of the formidable Kainna to some more secure position. A slight smile curled the lip of the young Delaware, as he said to Besha, “The counsel of the Crow chief does not seem good to Wingenund: if White–bull will agree to his terms, he will place the Kainna chief, and half a score of his best warriors, as captives in this camp before to–morrow at midday.”

A general murmur of surprise followed these words; and White–bull, somewhat nettled, inquired what might be the terms proposed.

“They are,” said Wingenund, “first, that the two white prisoners shall be immediately restored to their friends; secondly, that the Osages shall be given up to the LenapÉ; thirdly, that there shall be peace and friendship between the friends of Wingenund and the Upsaroka until the snow falls again upon the earth.”

The leaders having conversed apart for a few minutes, White–bull said, “If Wingenund fails, and the Kainna take many scalps from the Upsaroka, what will happen then?”

“They will take the scalp of Wingenund too,” replied the youth calmly.

Again the Crow chiefs consulted together for some time, and at length they resolved to agree to the terms proposed by Wingenund. The medicine–pipe was brought, and was passed from the chief to him, as well as to Ethelston and the missionary; after which Wingenund said to White–bull, “There is no time to be lost; let sixty of the best warriors be chosen, twenty to go with Wingenund, and forty with White–bull; and let one be found, very large and tall; let him put on the dress of MahÉga; Wingenund will take the whistle, and all will be ready.”

A short time sufficed to collect and marshal the party; and Ethelston was, at his own earnest request, permitted to join the band led by the Delaware youth, being anxious to see the manoeuvres about to take place, and Besha having made himself responsible for his fidelity.

Wingenund led the way at a swift pace, until he gained the summit of the first range of hills; nor did he slacken it until he had crossed the valley beyond, and stood upon the opposite brow of the heights, whence the Black–foot band was visible. Here he concealed and halted his party, until he had crept forward and examined all the range of hills within sight. As soon as he had satisfied himself that all was quiet, he drew his party gently on, and at length succeeded in hiding White–bull and his forty men behind some rocks in the steepest and narrowest part of the gorge leading down to the glen below. His quick eye had noted the spot before, and a more minute inspection now convinced him that there was no other pass by which the enemy could ascend the height, and that a handful of determined men might defend it against ten times their number.

Having warned White–bull to keep his own men close, and to stir neither hand nor foot until he heard the LenapÉ war–cry, which was the appointed signal, he retreated with his own band of twenty men to the point where the interview between MahÉga and the Black–foot had taken place, which was about forty yards higher up the mountain, and where the gorge was almost as narrow and precipitous as at the pass below. Here he concealed his men among the rocks, and Ethelston primed and loaded three rifles, which they had taken from the Osages, and which were now destined for the use of Wingenund and himself.

For several weary hours the youth watched in vain for the approach of the Black–feet; and any nerves less steady than his own would have been shaken by the remembrance of the disagreeable consequences that might result from the failure of his plot. He lay, however, still and motionless as the stone upon which his elbow rested, until, just as the grey hue of evening was beginning to steal over the landscape, he descried an Indian slowly ascending the steep, followed at a distance by a long line of warriors. A low whistle from Wingenund warned his party to be ready, but he moved not until the advancing band were sufficiently near for him to recognise in their leader the chief who had conferred with MahÉga on the preceding day.

While they were approaching in careless security, the Crows prepared for the attack, each man being provided with a tough halter of bison–hide, in addition to his usual weapons of bow, knife, and war–club; and the leader of the Black–feet had already passed the lower gorge (where White–bull and his party were concealed), ere he sounded the signal preconcerted with MahÉga. Wingenund immediately replied by a similar sound drawn from the whistle which he had secured, desiring at the same time the Crow who wore the dress of the slain Osage to show himself at the edge of the rock skirting the pass. The Black–foot chief, completely deceived, toiled lazily up the steep and narrow ascent, beckoning to his men to follow; and just as he reached the upper station, Wingenund, seeing that twelve or fourteen of them were now fairly caged between the party below and his own, leapt from his concealment upon the astonished leader of the Black–feet, and dealing him a blow on the head that stunned and disabled him, shouted aloud the war–cry of the LenapÉ.

No sooner was the signal uttered, than White–bull rushed from his ambuscade, and seized the pass below; so that the unfortunate Black–feet, enclosed between the two parties, panic–struck by the suddenness of the attack, and the fall of their leader, could neither fight nor fly; and in spite of their desperate but unavailing attempts at resistance, were all in the course of a few minutes disarmed and securely bound.

Meanwhile the main body of their comrades made a gallant attempt to force the lower pass, but it was so stoutly defended by the Crows, and was in itself so narrow and difficult, that they were soon forced to retire with loss. Neither could those who succeeded to the command bring them again to the attack. The war–cry of the LenapÉ had never before been heard in these glens, and the dismayed Black–feet thought that the evil spirits were fighting against them; while to increase their terror, Ethelston and Wingenund fired two of the rifles over their heads, the bullets from which whistled past them, and the echoes of their report, prolonged by the rocks and crags around, died away at length like the muttered thunder of a distant storm. Terrified by the suddenness of the attack, and by the noise of the fire–arms, ignorant of the number, position, and even of the nation, of their unexpected assailants, and fearful that another manoeuvre might cut off their retreat, they fled precipitately down the mountain–side, and halted not until they brought their tale of disgrace and disaster into the Kainna camp.

In the course of a few hours after the events above narrated, Wingenund and White–bull stood together before the lodge of the aged chief of the Crows, whom the former addressed as follows:—“My father, see there the Kainna chief, and twelve of his best warriors; they are prisoners; their life hangs upon my father’s breath; the promise of Wingenund has not been blown away by the wind.”

Besha having duly translated this address, was desired by the old chief (whose astonishment was scarcely exceeded by his delight) to bestow the highest praise that he could express upon the young Delaware’s skill and courage; to which effusion of complimentary eloquence he replied: “My father, Wingenund has not seen many summers; he has no skill in speech, nor experience in council; but he knows that the Great Spirit loves a single tongue, and a true heart. MahÉga was cunning as a wolf, swift as a deer, strong as a bison–bull; but there was poison in his heart, and lies dwelt under his tongue, like snakes under a smooth stone. What is the end? The mountain–buzzards pick his bones; and when his children ask,—where is the grave of MahÉga? there shall be none to answer. My father, when the sun has risen, the treaty shall be made, the pipe of peace shall be smoked, and the Medicine of the white tent shall bring many good things to the Upsaroka.”

Having thus spoken, Wingenund retired to the lodge of Besha; and the captive Black–feet having been placed under a guard, White–bull remained in consultation with his father, while the other warriors soon forgot in sleep the fatigues of the past eventful day.