of the
nation. The Teton himself was content to await the result with seeming
composure, though the gleams of ferocity, that played about his eye,
occasionally betrayed the nature of those feelings, with which he
witnessed a procedure, that was likely to rob him of that one of all his
intended victims whom he most hated.

In the mean time Le Balafre moved with a slow and painful step towards
the captives. He stopped before the person of Hard-Heart, whose
faultless form, unchanging eye, and lofty mien, he contemplated long,
with high and evident satisfaction. Then making a gesture of authority,
he awaited, until his order had been obeyed, and the youth was released
from the post and his bonds, by the same blow of the knife. When the
young warrior was led nearer to his dimmed and failing sight, the
examination was renewed, with strictness of scrutiny, and that
admiration, which physical excellence is so apt to excite in the breast
of a savage.

"It is good," the wary veteran murmured, when he found that all his
skill in the requisites of a brave could detect no blemish; "this is a
leaping panther! Does my son speak with the tongue of a Teton?"

The intelligence, which lighted the eyes of the captive, betrayed how
well he understood the question, but still he was far too haughty to
communicate his ideas through the medium of a language that belonged to
a hostile people. Some of the surrounding warriors explained to the old
chief, that the captive was a Pawnee-Loup.

"My son opened his eyes on the 'waters of the wolves,'" said Le Balafre,
in the language of that nation, "but he will shut them in the bend of
the 'river with a troubled stream.' He was born a Pawnee, but he will
die a Dahcotah. Look at me. I am a sycamore, that once covered many with
my shadow. The leaves are fallen, and the branches begin to drop. But
a single sucker is springing from my roots; it is a little vine, and it
winds itself about a tree that is green. I have long looked for one
fit to grow by my side. Now have I found him. Le Balafre is no longer
without a son; his name will not be forgotten when he is gone! Men of
the Tetons, I take this youth into my lodge."

No one was bold enough to dispute a right, that had so often been
exercised by warriors far inferior to the present speaker, and the
adoption was listened to, in grave and respectful silence. Le Balafre
took his intended son by the arm, and leading him into the very centre
of the circ