dreaded rifle, appeared before the
eyes of the Siouxes, there was a sensible, though a suppressed sensation
in the band. The artifice of the trapper had so far succeeded, as to
render it extremely doubtful whether he came from some point on the open
prairie, or from the thicket; though the Indians still continued to cast
frequent and suspicious glances at the cover. They had made their
halt at the distance of an arrow-flight from the bushes; but when the
stranger came sufficiently nigh to show that the deep coating of red and
brown, which time and exposure had given to his features, was laid upon
the original colour of a Pale-face, they slowly receded from the spot,
until they reached a distance that might defeat the aim of fire-arms.

In the mean time the old man continued to advance, until he had got nigh
enough to make himself heard without difficulty. Here he stopped,
and dropping his rifle to the earth, he raised his hand with the palm
outward, in token of peace. After uttering a few words of reproach
to his hound, who watched the savage group with eyes that seemed to
recognise them, he spoke in the Sioux tongue--

"My brothers are welcome," he said, cunningly constituting himself the
master of the region in which they had met, and assuming the offices
of hospitality. "They are far from their villages, and are hungry. Will
they follow to my lodge, to eat and sleep?"

No sooner was his voice heard, than the yell of pleasure, which burst
from a dozen mouths, convinced the sagacious trapper, that he also was
recognised. Feeling that it was too late to retreat, he profited by the
confusion which prevailed among them, while Weucha was explaining
his character, to advance, until he was again face to face with the
redoubtable Mahtoree. The second interview between these two men, each
of whom was extraordinary in his way, was marked by the usual caution
of the frontiers. They stood, for nearly a minute, examining each other
without speaking.

"Where are your young men?" sternly demanded the Teton chieftain, after
he found that the immovable features of the trapper refused to betray
any of their master's secrets, under his intimidating look.

"The Long-knives do not come in bands to trap the beaver? I am alone."

"Your head is white, but you have a forked tongue. Mahtoree has been in
your camp. He knows that you are not alone. Where is your young wife,
and the warrior that I found upon the prairie?"

"I have no wife