nded; he was giving a very strange version of his
expedition, and as I heard facts so distorted, I could not help
repeating to myself the words of Auku-wonze-zee, "The Oposh-ton-ehoe is
a double-tongued liar!"

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

One morning, Roche, Gabriel, and myself were summoned to the Great
Council Lodge; there we met with the four Comanches whom we had rescued
some days before, and it would be difficult to translate from their
glowing language their warm expressions of friendship and gratitude. We
learned from them that before the return of the Cayugas from the prairie
they had concealed themselves in some crevices of the earth until night,
when they contrived to seize upon three of the horses and effect their
escape. At the passage of the great chasm they had found the old red
sash of Roche, which they produced, asking at the same time permission
to keep it as a token from their Pale-face brothers. We shook bands and
exchanged pipes. How noble and warm is an Indian in his feelings!

In the lodge we also perceived our friend of former days, "Opishka
Koaki" (the White Raven), but as he was about to address the assembly,
we restrained from renewing our acquaintance and directed all our
attention to what was transacting. After the ordinary ceremonies,
Opishka Koaki commenced:--

"Warriors, I am glad you have so quickly understood my messages, but
when does a Comanche turn his back on receiving the vermilion from his
chief? Never! you know I called you for war, and you have come; 'tis
well. Yet, though I am a chief, I am a man. I may mistake; I may now
and then strike a wrong path. I will do nothing, attempt nothing,
without knowing the thoughts of my brave warriors. Then hear me!

"There live under the sun a nation of Redskins, whose men are cowards.
Never striking an enemy but when his back is turned, or when they number
a hundred to one. This nation crawls in the prairies about the great
chasms, they live upon carrion, and have no other horses but those they
can steal from the deer-hearted Watchinangoes. Do my warriors know such
a people? Let them speak! I hear!"

At that moment a hundred voices shouted the name of Cayugas.

"I knew it!" exclaimed the chief, "there is but one such a people with a
red skin; my warriors are keen-sighted; they cannot be mistaken. Now,
we Comanches never take the scalp of a Cayuga any more than that of a
hedge-hog; we kick them out of our way when they cro