As these important personages at length entered the circle in a body, their sullen looks and clouded brows, notwithstanding the time given to consultation, sufficiently proclaimed the discontent which reigned among them.
The eye of Mahtoree was varying in its expression, from sudden gleams, that seemed to kindle with the burning impulses of his soul, to that cold and guarded steadiness, which was thought more peculiarly to become a chief in council.
He took his seat, with the studied simplicity of a demagogue; though the keen and flashing glance, that he immediately threw around the silent assembly, betrayed the more predominant temper of a tyrant.
When all were present, an aged warrior lighted the great pipe of his people, and blew the smoke towards the four quarters of the heavens.
So soon as this propitiatory offering was made, he tendered it to Mahtoree, who, in affected humility, passed it to a grey-headed chief by his side.
After the influence of the soothing weed had been courted by all, a grave silence succeeded, as if each was not only qualified to, but actually did, think more deeply on the matters before them. Then an old Indian arose, and spoke as follows:—
“The eagle, at the falls of the endless river, was in its egg, many snows after my hand had struck a Pawnee.
What my tongue says, my eyes have seen.
Bohrecheena is very old.
The hills have stood longer in their places, than he has been in his tribe, and the rivers were full and empty, before he was born; but where is the Sioux that knows it besides himself?
What he says, they will hear.
If any of his words fall to the ground, they will pick them up and hold them to their ears.
If any blow away in the wind, my young men, who are very nimble, will catch them. Now listen.
Since water ran and trees grew, the Sioux has found the Pawnee on his war-path.
As the cougar loves the antelope, the Dahcotah loves his enemy.
When the wolf finds the fawn, does he lie down and sleep?
When the panther sees the doe at the spring, does he shut his eyes?
You know that he does not.
He drinks too; but it is of blood!
A Sioux is a leaping panther, a Pawnee a trembling deer.
Let my children hear me. They will find my words good.
I have spoken.”
A deep guttural exclamation of assent 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 characters, was gratified by his metaphorical allusions, and the chief himself augured favourably of the success of his own schemes, by the number of supporters, who manifested themselves to be in favour of the counsels 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.
The 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 endeavoured 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 grey, 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 awaited 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 prairie is red.
Who can tell the spot where a Pawnee was struck, from the place where my young men took a bison?
It is of the same colour.
The Master of Life made them for each other.