le, he stepped aside with an air of triumph, in order
that the spectators might approve of his choice. Mahtoree betrayed no
evidence of his intentions, but rather seemed to await a moment better
suited to the crafty policy of his character. The more experienced
and sagacious chiefs distinctly foresaw the utter impossibility of two
partisans so renowned, so hostile, and who had so long been rivals in
fame, as their prisoner and their native leader, existing amicably in
the same tribe. Still the character of Le Balafre was so imposing, and
the custom to which he had resorted so sacred, that none dared to lift
a voice in opposition to the measure. They watched the result with
increasing interest, but with a coldness of demeanour that concealed the
nature of their inquietude. From this state of embarrassment, and as it
might readily have proved of disorganisation, the tribe was unexpectedly
relieved by the decision of the one most interested in the success of
the aged chief's designs.

During the whole of the foregoing scene, it would have been difficult to
have traced a single distinct emotion in the lineaments of the captive.
He had heard his release proclaimed, with the same indifference as the
order to bind him to the stake. But now, that the moment had arrived
when it became necessary to make his election, he spoke in a way to
prove that the fortitude, which had bought him so distinguished a name,
had in no degree deserted him.

"My father is very old, but he has not yet looked upon every thing,"
said Hard-Heart, in a voice so clear as to be heard by all in presence.
"He has never seen a buffaloe change to a bat. He will never see a
Pawnee become a Sioux!"

There was a suddenness, and yet a calmness in the manner of delivering
this decision, which assured most of the auditors that it was
unalterable. The heart of Le Balafre, however, was yearning towards the
youth, and the fondness of age was not so readily repulsed. Reproving
the burst of admiration and triumph, to which the boldness of the
declaration, and the freshened hopes of revenge had given rise, by
turning his gleaming eye around the band, the veteran again addressed
his adopted child, as if his purpose was not to be denied.

"It is well," he said; "such are the words a brave should use, that
the warriors may see his heart. The day has been when the voice of Le
Balafre was loudest among the lodges of the Konzas. But the root of a
white hair is wisdom. My c