sion, after a moment's delay, he answered--

"Sing in the ears of the dark-eye. Tell her the lodge of Mahtoree is
very large, and that it is not full. She shall find room in it, and none
shall be greater than she. Tell the light-hair, that she too may stay in
the lodge of a brave, and eat of his venison. Mahtoree is a great chief.
His hand is never shut."

"Teton," returned the trapper, shaking his head in evidence of the
strong disapprobation with which he heard this language, "the tongue of
a Red-skin must be coloured white, before it can make music in the ears
of a Pale-face. Should your words be spoken, my daughters would shut
their ears, and Mahtoree would seem a trader to their eyes. Now listen
to what comes from a grey-head, and then speak accordingly. My people
is a mighty people. The sun rises on their eastern and sets on their
western border. The land is filled with bright-eyed and laughing girls,
like these you see--ay, Teton, I tell no lie," observing his auditor to
start with an air of distrust--"bright-eyed and pleasant to behold, as
these before you."

"Has my father a hundred wives!" interrupted the savage, laying his
finger on the shoulder of the trapper, with a look of curious interest
in the reply.

"No, Dahcotah. The Master of Life has said to me, Live alone; your lodge
shall be the forest; the roof of your wigwam, the clouds. But, though
never bound in the secret faith which, in my nation, ties one man to one
woman, often have I seen the workings of that kindness which brings
the two together. Go into the regions of my people; you will see the
daughters of the land, fluttering through the towns like many-coloured
and joyful birds in the season of blossoms. You will meet them, singing
and rejoicing, along the great paths of the country, and you will
hear the woods ringing with their laughter. They are very excellent to
behold, and the young men find pleasure in looking at them."

"Hugh," ejaculated the attentive Mahtoree.

"Ay, well may you put faith in what you hear, for it is no lie. But when
a youth has found a maiden to please him, he speaks to her in a voice
so soft, that none else can hear. He does not say, My lodge is empty and
there is room for another; but shall I build, and will the virgin show
me near what spring she would dwell? His voice is sweeter than honey
from the locust, and goes into the ear thrilling like the song of a
wren. Therefore, if my brother wishes his words to be he