broke from the lips of all the
partisans of Mahtoree, as they listened to this sanguinary advice from one, who
was certainly among the most aged men of the nation. That deeply seated love of
vengeance, which formed so prominent a feature in their character, was gratified
by his metaphorical allusions, and the chief himself augured favorably of the
success of his own schemes, by the number of supporters who manifested
themselves to be in favor of the counsel of his friend. But still unanimity was
far from prevailing. A long and decorous pause was suffered to succeed the words
of the first speaker, in order that all might duly deliberate on their wisdom,
before another chief took on himself the office of refutation. This second
orator, though past the prime of his days was far less aged than the one who had
preceded him. He felt the disadvantage of this circumstance, and endeavored to
counteract it, as far as possible by the excess of his humility.
    »I am but an infant,« he commenced, looking furtively around him, in order
to detect how far his well established character for prudence and courage
contradicted his assertion. »I have lived with the women, since my father has
been a man. If my head is getting gray, it is not because I am old. Some of the
snow which fell on it, while I have been sleeping on the war-paths, has frozen
there, and the hot sun near the Osage villages has not been strong enough, to
melt it.« A low murmur was heard, expressive of admiration of the services to
which he thus artfully alluded. The orator modestly waited for the feeling to
subside a little, and then he continued with increasing energy, encouraged by
their commendations. »But the eyes of a young brave are good. He can see very
far. He is a Lynx. Look at me, well. I will turn my back that you may see both
sides of me. Now do you know I am your friend, for you look on a part that a
Pawnee never yet saw. Now look at my face; not in this seam, for there your eyes
can never see into my spirit. It is a hole cut by a Konza. But here is an
opening made by the Wahcondah, through which you may look into the soul. What am
I? a Dahcotah, within and without. You know it. Therefore hear me. The blood of
every creature on the Prairies is red. Who can tell the spot where a Pawnee was
struck, from the place where my young men took a