ad found time to collect his perplexed faculties, saw
at once that Middleton, having perceived Ishmael on the trail by which
they had fled, preferred trusting to the hospitality of the savages,
than to the treatment he would be likely to receive from the hands of
the squatter. He therefore disposed himself to clear the way for the
favourable reception of his friends, since he found that the unnatural
coalition became necessary to secure the liberty, if not the lives, of
the party.

"Did my brother ever go on a war-path to strike my people?" he calmly
demanded of the indignant chief, who still awaited his reply.

The lowering aspect of the Teton warrior so far lost its severity, as
to suffer a gleam of pleasure and triumph to lighten its ferocity, as
sweeping his arm in an entire circle around his person he answered--

"What tribe or nation has not felt the blows of the Dahcotahs? Mahtoree
is their partisan."

"And has he found the Big-knives women, or has he found them men?"

A multitude of fierce passions were struggling in the tawny countenance
of the Indian. For a moment inextinguishable hatred seemed to hold the
mastery, and then a nobler expression, and one that better became the
character of a brave, got possession of his features, and maintained
itself until, first throwing aside his light robe of pictured deer-skin,
and pointing to the scar of a bayonet in his breast, he replied--

"It was given, as it was taken, face to face."

"It is enough. My brother is a brave chief, and he should be wise. Let
him look: is that a warrior of the Pale-faces? Was it one such as that
who gave the great Dahcotah his hurt?"

The eyes of Mahtoree followed the direction of the old man's extended
arm, until they rested on the drooping form of Inez. The look of the
Teton was long, riveted, and admiring. Like that of the young Pawnee,
it resembled more the gaze of a mortal on some heavenly image, than the
admiration with which man is wont to contemplate even the loveliness
of woman. Starting, as if suddenly self-convicted of forgetfulness, the
chief next turned his eyes on Ellen, where they lingered an instant
with a much more intelligible expression of admiration, and then pursued
their course until they had taken another glance at each individual of
the party.

"My brother sees that my tongue is not forked," continued the
trapper, watching the emotions the other betrayed, with a readiness
of comprehension little inferior t