ing words
should be translated to the unconscious subject of their biting
contempt. The old man took his cue from the eyes of Mahtoree, and
complied. Hard-Heart listened gravely, and then, as if apprized that his
time to speak had not arrived, he once more bent his look on the
vacant air. The orator watched his countenance, with an expression that
manifested how inextinguishable was the hatred he felt for the only
chief, far and near, whose fame might advantageously be compared with
his own. Though disappointed in not having touched the pride of one
whom he regarded as a boy, he proceeded, what he considered as far more
important, to quicken the tempers of the men of his own tribe, in order
that they might be prepared to work his savage purposes. "If the earth
was covered with rats, which are good for nothing," he said, "there
would be no room for buffaloes, which give food and clothes to an
Indian. If the prairies were covered with Pawnees, there would be
no room for the foot of a Dahcotah. A Loup is a rat, a Sioux a heavy
buffaloe; let the buffaloes tread upon the rats and make room for
themselves.

"My brothers, a little child has spoken to you. He tells you, his hair
is not grey, but frozen--that the grass will not grow where a Pale-face
has died. Does he know the colour of the blood of a Big-knife? No! I
know he does not; he has never seen it. What Dahcotah, besides Mahtoree,
has ever struck a Pale-face? Not one. But Mahtoree must be silent. Every
Teton will shut his ears when he speaks. The scalps over his lodge were
taken by the women. They were taken by Mahtoree, and he is a woman. His
mouth is shut; he waits for the feasts to sing among the girls!"

Notwithstanding the exclamations of regret and resentment, which
followed so abasing a declaration, the chief took his seat, as if
determined to speak no more. But the murmurs grew louder and more
general, and there were threatening symptoms that the council would
dissolve itself in confusion; and he arose and resumed his speech, by
changing his manner to the fierce and hurried enunciation of a warrior
bent on revenge.

"Let my young men go look for Tetao!" he cried; "they will find his
scalp drying in Pawnee smoke. Where is the son of Bohrecheena? His bones
are whiter than the faces of his murderers. Is Mahhah asleep in his
lodge? You know it is many moons since he started for the blessed
prairies; would he were here, that he might say of what colour was the
ha