ged 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. He made them alike. But will
the grass grow green where a Pale-face is killed? My young men must not
think that nation so numerous, that it will not miss a warrior. They
call them over often, and say, Where are my sons? If they miss one, they
will send into the prairies to look for him. If they cannot find him,
they will tell their runners to ask for him, among the Siouxes. My
brethren, the Big-knives are not fools. There is a mighty medicine of
their nation now among us; who can tell how loud is his voice, or how
long is his arm?--"

The speech of the orator, who was beginning to enter into his subject
with warmth, was cut short by the impatient Mahtoree, who suddenly arose
and exclaimed, in a voice in which authority was mingled with contempt,
and at the close with a keen tone of irony, also--

"Let my young men lead