hat is so often preached, to the White-skins in the
settlements, though, to the shame of the colour be it said, it is so
little heeded. Pawnee, I love you; but being a Christian man, I cannot
be the runner to bear such a message."

"If my father is afraid the Tetons will hear him, let him whisper it
softly to our old men."

"As for fear, young warrior, it is no more the shame of a Pale-face than
of a Red-skin. The Wahcondah teaches us to love the life he gives; but
it is as men love their hunts, and their dogs, and their carabines, and
not with the doting that a mother looks upon her infant. The Master of
Life will not have to speak aloud twice when he calls my name. I am as
ready to answer to it now, as I shall be to-morrow, or at any time
it may please his mighty will. But what is a warrior without his
traditions? Mine forbid me to carry your words."

The chief made a dignified motion of assent, and here there was great
danger that those feelings of confidence, which had been so singularly
awakened, would as suddenly subside. But the heart of the old man
had been too sensibly touched, through long dormant but still living
recollections, to break off the communication so rudely. He pondered for
a minute, and then bending his look wistfully on his young associate,
again continued--

"Each warrior must be judged by his gifts. I have told my son what I
cannot, but let him open his ears to what I can do. An elk shall not
measure the prairie much swifter than these old legs, if the Pawnee will
give me a message that a white man may bear."

"Let the Pale-face listen," returned the other, after hesitating
a single instant longer, under a lingering sensation of his former
disappointment. "He will stay here till the Siouxes have done counting
the scalps of their dead warriors. He will wait until they have tried to
cover the heads of eighteen Tetons with the skin of one Pawnee; he will
open his eyes wide, that he may see the place where they bury the bones
of a warrior."

"All this will I, and may I, do, noble boy."

"He will mark the spot, that he may know it."

"No fear, no fear that I shall forget the place," interrupted the other,
whose fortitude began to give way under so trying an exhibition of
calmness and resignation.

"Then I know that my father will go to my people. His head is grey,
and his words will not be blown away with the smoke. Let him get on my
lodge, and call the name of Hard-Heart aloud. No Pawnee