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.
Pages:
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658